The Fantasy Basket
by JenEsme
Summary: 2 women. 2 generations. 2 marriages on the brink of breakdown. Once love fades, how can you make a marriage survive, thrive, bloom into a relationship that others envy? The best advice may come from one you're least likely to ask. AH B/E & E/C
1. Prologue

**The Fantasy Basket**

**By JenEsme**

**Inspired by Stephenie Meyers' Twilight series. No infringement intended.**

**Posted 4/16/12**

**SUMMARY: **

What happens _after_ the happily ever after? This is the story of two women, two generations, two marriages, both on the brink of breakdown. It follows Bella who is struggling with the throes of new parenthood, a new house, and a new attitude from her once-attentive husband who is now more focused on his job and his image than his wife, and Esme, who lived through much of the same 20 years ago. Can Esme's advice about commitment, communication, and (gulp) sex help Bella save her marriage, or will she be written off as a meddling mother-in-law?

This is a story about grown-ups, for grown-ups. If you're under 18, you shouldn't be reading it. (It probably won't interest you, anyway!)

The Fantasy Basket is 100% pre-written. I plan to post weekly on Wednesdays, starting 4/18/12. It is my first attempt at writing fiction. Please review and let me know what you think.

Enjoy!

* * *

**PROLOGUE**

April 2012, Bella POV

He stood next to his side of the bed and gaped at me as I left our room, stormed down the hall with my head held high, and gently clicked the door of one of the spare bedrooms shut behind me. I collapsed onto the lonely bed that sat in the middle of the otherwise empty and spartan room, trying to hold back both tears and angry, cursing rants. I buried my face in my pillow, anticipating the need to hide the noise from our guests, and he knocked quietly on the other side of the door.

"Bella? Bella, I'm sorry…" I ignored him, knowing that if I said a word to him now, many more words would come spilling out. Words that I'd regret, especially in front of his parents. "Bella?... Damn it!" I heard him shuffle back down the hall and close our bedroom door behind him. That set off the tears—what seemed like hours of them—as I repeated Esme's words over and over in my mind: _No dumping. Choose to stay. There's always hope… _

Esme POV

_Oh dear,_ I thought as I paused at the top of the stairs, a glass of water in each hand. I tracked the sound of muffled sobs to one of the spare bedrooms.

Carlisle thanked me, and, noticing the look on my face asked "What's wrong, Baby?"

"She's upset again—really upset. We raised that boy better than this, Carlisle."

* * *

**A/N **

The Fantasy Basket will alternate between Esme's perspective in 1990 and Bella's in 2012. It's two separate stories woven into one. All 20 chapters are pre-written, so I should be able to maintain a weekly posting schedule, barring natural disaster.

The Fantasy Basket would be so much less than it is without the help of my beta and good friend Besotted. She pushes and pulls and prods with patience and kindness to help me make this story better for you.

Thanks also to Nayarit for the beautiful banners.

And thanks to you for reading! I hope you'll stay with me to the end, and let me know what you think along the way.

JEN

245 words

Twitter: JenEsmeFF


	2. Chapter 1, Esme: A Typical Day

**The Fantasy Basket**

**By JenEsme**

**Inspired by Stephenie Meyers' Twilight series. No infringement intended.**

**Chapter 1—Esme: A Typical Day**

**Posted 4/18/12**

August 1990

I awoke to a peck on the forehead and a quick "bye" from my husband. He was halfway to the bedroom door before I could blink my bleary eyes into focus.

"You look nice today," I slurred from my sleepy haze. At least his backside did. "Will you be home for dinner?"

"Probably. I'll call you if not. Thanks for the shirts." _Huh—he noticed!_ I'd stayed up late ironing last night and dropped into bed next to his sleeping form way past midnight.

"k…" He didn't hear me. He was already gone. Gone for the day and probably most of the evening. Off to his other wife—the hospital, where he spent most of his waking hours. The garage door rumbled open and his car started below as I checked the clock—6:30 a.m. Ugh, my body craved at least another half hour of rest, but it was not to be.

"STOP IT, EMMETT!"

"HA!"

"EM, GIVE IT BACK!"

_Sigh, the boys are up_… and so began my day. A day like pretty much all the others, filled with chores, refereeing the boys, and driving. Driving, driving, driving. Whoever coined the term "stay at home mom" has obviously never been one, because I am NEVER home! I drove the kids to school, headed to the gym for my new "step" aerobics class, and got the grocery shopping done. After a quick stop home to put the groceries away and grab a bite to eat, I went back to school to teach art to Emmett's fifth grade class—the high point of my day. The lesson was called to an end by the ringing school bell, and it was time for the boys and me to climb back in the car and roll off to their practices.

"Hey Mom, look—I got a toof necklace! Isn't it cool? When I tried to take a bite at lunch my toof hurt, so I couldn't eat my sandwich. I ate my applesauce, though. And I wiggled my toof some more and it came out, so the nurse gave me this big toof necklace to put it in. Do you think the toof fairy will come?" My little guy was so excited. Oh, to be a child again and to find such joy in the little things in life like losing a tooth.

"Of course, Eddie-Bear. We'll have to put it under your pillow tonight. Give me a smile and let me see." He flashed a big, cheesy grin to show off the gap in the front of his mouth. _So cute with his freckle face and wild auburn hair. I'll have to take a picture when we get home. I hope there's some film left in my camera._

"That's no fair, Mom!" Emmett interjected. "My teeth never fall out at school so I never got a tooth necklace. I hope my next one comes out at school!"

_My boys…always competing with each other_. Being an only child, I'd never experienced sibling squabbles, but I was certainly getting them at full force now as a parent. _Sigh. It makes me tired._

"Life's not fair, Emmett. And do you really need a necklace, anyway? The tooth fairy brings you money whether you have one or not, right? Here we are. I'll pick you up at five. Have fun, Sweetie!"

I popped the hatch so he could grab his football gear out of the back. Then we were off to the soccer park for Edward's practice. I walked him up to the field where his team meets, chatted with his coach and some other parents for a bit, and headed back to the car. I had just enough time for a quick trip home to vacuum and start prepping dinnerbefore I had to jump back in the car to pick up the boys. Like I said… driving, driving. Home again to supervise homework and piano practice, referee more sibling squabbles, and cook dinner.

These were the details of my day. If you chose any day it would look pretty much the same. It might be Costco instead of the grocery store, or baseball practice instead of soccer, but there's not a whole lot of variation. I love my kids dearly, love my family, and I know how privileged I am to be able to stay home with them full time, but sometimes I wonder, _Is this all there is for me? Is this what I was put on this earth to do?_

As I chopped, measured, and stirred, my mind traveled back to my favorite café in Paris. I'm laughing with my friends, talking about art and travel and politics, enjoying a glass of wine with dinner, watching fashionable people walk by and wondering who they could be... The ringing phone jolted me back to reality. It was 6:15. _Of course. He's going to miss dinner… again_.

"Hello?"

"Hi. It's me. I'll be late. I'm buried under a stack of charts. Go ahead and eat without me." Had I called that one right, or what?

"Ok…" I was distracted by my son's frantic tapping on my arm and pointing to the phone. I tried not to laugh at his eager face, eyes wide and lips squeezed tightly together against his desperate need to talk. He takes things so literally. I'd taught them that if they had to interrupt me while I was on the phone, they should keep quiet and tap my arm. I guess I should be thankful that he listened, but it was pretty funny to see him jumping around, dying to talk.

I giggled and tousled his hair. "Hold on a sec, Edward wants to talk to you."

I handed the phone to the excited young boy, who, with a slight lisp and a very loud voice, told his dad all about the lost tooth. He described in detail the unfinished peanut butter sandwich and the giant plastic tooth necklace that HE got which made his brother jealous. He described in detail that the tooth was already carefully placed under his pillow—right in the middle—so the tooth fairy would be able to find it even if she came early, as long as Emmett didn't steal his pillow like he did this morning. I could faintly hear my husband's enthusiastic replies to Edward's story.

"Really?... Wow!... That's great!" Even though he works so much, he really is a wonderful and attentive father. I smiled and realized that this was one of those memories that I should store away in my brain to recall someday when he's a big, sullen teenager who refuses to talk to his parents about anything.

The boys and I ate dinner. I'd made Carlisle's favorite recipe—not that my repertoire or cooking skills are that impressive. But still, I was disappointed that my husband wasn't home to eat it with us. His place sat empty. Lonely. Quiet. I looked wistfully at the space across from me and craved adult conversation, adult interaction, something to interrupt the boys' constant arguing and teasing and noise. Did he miss me or was he too absorbed in his work to even notice? He's a fantastic doctor—caring, compassionate, attentive, and so careful to get everything just right for his patients. And he is rewarded handsomely with all the trappings of success: money, recognition, advancement. He provides everything we could ask for, but I wonder, sometimes, if it's all worth it. _Should a "good life" feel so empty?_

I cleaned up the dishes and sent the boys upstairs to bathe and get ready for bed. The sound of water running into the sink reminded me of a lovely little fountain I used to pass on my way to the university when I studied abroad, tucked into a corner between two small residential streets, like it was there just for me. _I'll have to recreate that on our back patio. I have the perfect spot in mind._ Sometimes I would throw in a coin and wish Carlisle were there with me to experience the beauty and culture and history that was all around. We were half a world apart, separated by continents and oceans, but his daily letters and monthly phone calls reminded me that I was always close to his heart. I was always in his thoughts.

I dreamed that someday when we were done with school, he'd join me and we'd stay in Paris permanently. I would paint by day and maybe work part time in a boutique or a gallery while he saved the world, one patient at a time. We would fill our quirky little centuries-old apartment with baubles and treasures gathered on weekend trips around the continent. We'd enjoy the company of good friends and food in the evenings, and make passionate love at night in the city of romance. _Sigh_.

After studying abroad there, I was sure Paris would be like a second home, if not my primary residence at least for awhile. But in reality, after returning to Washington to finish school, getting married, and working full time at Laurent's gallery in Seattle to support us during his residency, we hadn't had time to travel much at all. We'd gone back to Paris just once, and that was over ten years ago, before Emmett was born. Thank goodness we took that pre-baby vacation, or I would have never been back. I love my boys, more than anything, but sometimes I yearn for the life I traded for them. Once in a lonely while, the splash of the dishwater makes me ponder about the choices I didn't make.

Daydream over, dishes done, granite counters wiped clean, and all evidence of dinner packed into the fridge, Edward padded into the kitchen, freshly scrubbed and toothless in his fleece pajamas with the monster feet, ready for a story. He wanted me to read it to him, and whined when I asked him to read to me instead. He needs the practice, so we settled on alternating pages. Emmett lay on the couch in the adjoining room, reading _Sideways Stories of Wayside School_. I heard him chuckle every so often. About halfway through _The Bearenstain Bears and the Spooky Old Tree_ (Do they dare go in the tree? "YES THEY DARE!" Edward would shout), both boys leaped from their seats, books forgotten at the first sound of the garage door opening.

"DADDY'S HOME—FIIIIIRST HUG!" Edward ran to be the first to greet him, jumping into his arms and winning our daily race. Emmett gripped his father around the waist, trying to avoid being kicked by his brother's dangling feet. With a hand behind his neck, I reached over both boys for an awkward kiss, snatching a quick glimpse of my favorite baby blues just for a moment before he pulled them away from me to witness Edward's missing tooth and to beam with pride at Emmett's tale of a successful play at football practice.

I heated my husband's plate in the microwave and insisted that the boys finish their reading so that Daddy could eat. As soon as he'd put his dishes in the dishwasher, he rushed over to the couch, grabbed Edward, and slung him over his shoulder.

"Edward lost his tooth! Where could it be? We've got to find the missing tooth!" he cried, flying Edward through each room of the house to search for it.

"It's not in the dining room, Dad! It's not in the laundry room…" Edward giggled, bouncing and laughing as they ran from room to room, and finally up to his bed where they found the tooth (and the cool tooth-shaped necklace) under his pillow. After tucking our Eddie-Bear into bed, Carlisle returned downstairs to give Emmett some one-on-one attention.

"What shall we play, chess or Uno tonight, Buddy?" He's such a good dad.

I went up to kiss Edward goodnight, and got myself ready for bed while I was up there. I brought some dirty clothes downstairs and put a load in the washer. The guys had started a game of chess, so I sank into my favorite red, overstuffed chair with a cup of tea and a romance novel I'd been eager to start. I know these trashy books have no redeeming value, but they're a guilty pleasure, a way to imagine being back in Paris or another exciting place and to bring a little passion into my ordinary day. A little escape, perhaps?

"I beat Dad!" Emmett boasted as he approached to say goodnight. "Whoo, whoo, whoo!" He punched the air like Arsenio Hall.

"Awesome, kiddo—I bet that feels great! Goodnight. I love you."

"Love you, too, Mom."

I kissed Emmett goodnight and got up to switch the laundry into the dryer. Carlisle headed upstairs to tuck Emmett in.

"Tooth fairy?" I reminded him.

"Got it."

"Oh, Sweetie, don't forget my reunion is this weekend. There's a dinner and cocktail thing at the Fairmont Olympic on Friday at 7:00, and then a family picnic at noon on Saturday. They had a group rate so I booked us a room on Friday night. Mrs. Banner is going to watch the boys and bring them downtown on Saturday. I thought we might have breakfast with Carmen and Eleazar before the picnic. It's been awhile since we've gotten together with them. She's pregnant again, you know."

"Oh yeah? What's this, number three?" I nodded.

"Pfffft… they're crazy," he responded. As great as he was with the kids, he complained to me that they drained the life out of him. I'd had to fight and argue relentlessly to try for a second child, and sometimes I still felt some resentment from my husband over it. "I'll try to get out on time Friday. Is my black suit clean?"

"Picked it up today." He nodded and headed up the stairs.

I continued with my book until the laundry was dry, and switched on the TV while I folded. When Designing Women was over, I headed up to bed. 11:47. It was earlier than the night before, but even so, Carlisle was already sound asleep. He didn't even say goodnight. _Sigh—it's the 29__th__ and we haven't had sex at all this month. Does he even notice? Doesn't he miss it?_ I climbed into bed and found that he'd rolled over on his side and taken the covers with him, leaving just a tiny corner for me. I was cold, so I pulled on them gently, trying to release them from wherever Carlisle had them pinned down. He grunted in indignation as I finally released enough to cover me and leaned over blindly in the dark to kiss him goodnight. I think I got the back of his shoulder.

"Goodnight, I love you," I whispered.

"Mmmmm," he replied in his sleep, rolling over to face me and slinging a warm arm over my stomach.

Five hours later, I awoke to something uncomfortable poking me in the backside. Oh… it was Carlisle, only half awake (the lower half, apparently), but ready to wake me up and play connect the spoons. _I guess he's trying to keep up our once-a-month congress, but—ugh, I'm sooo tired. Why does he have to be a morning person when I'm such a night owl?_ I did want to be with him, but right at that moment I just wanted to sleep some more. He continued pressing against me and slid his fingers under the waistband of my panties, combing through my curly hair and then moving down to trace the outline of my folds. I was definitely not ready yet. "Kisses and hugs get me warmed up, remember?"

"Hm um… morning breath." He moved his hand up to embrace me, pulled me in closer so my back was against his chest, brushed my hair aside, and trailed his lips along my neck and shoulder. That was nice, though not what I really wanted. As he switched to kisses and nibbles, I began to tingle and shivered slightly. It was no use hoping to get more sleep. _All right, all right. I'll wake up and go with this._ He slid his hand under the t-shirt I slept in to fondle my breasts. I moved my hand behind me to caress his tush and thigh. He hitched his leg over my hip and ran his toes up and down my calf. I leaned my head back against his shoulder and moaned as he teased one nipple to attention, and then the other. I tried to stifle a yawn.

"Hold on," I murmured, and leaned over to the bedside table. I popped a breath mint into my mouth, got one for him, and grabbed our bottle of lubricant. That always helps when I'm half asleep.

When I turned back to Carlisle, his t-shirt was off and he was lifting his hips to slide his pajama pants and boxers off. _Man, he's beautiful. What a body. His daily workouts and jogs may take more time away from me, but they do provide me with this gorgeous sight._ At 40, he is toned and muscular and not much heavier than when I'd met him at 19—he'd gained just enough to fill in the sharp boyish angles, maturing him into a solid, sexy man, and he'd grown just enough soft, light brown hair on his chest and below his navel to make my mouth water.

"Say ahhh, Doctor." He opened his mouth and I placed the mint on his tongue. He smiled and sent me an air kiss. I kissed back and lifted the t-shirt over my head. He eagerly pulled me back into our spoons position, naked this time, with my leg hitched over his and his erection resting between my thighs. I reached down to pet it a few times as he kneaded my breasts and sucked on the juncture between my neck and shoulder. He moved his hand to the apex of my legs, petting and caressing gently. He held out his hand when I offered a squirt of lube, and added it to the moisture that had started to gather between my legs. I jumped as he applied the cold moisture to my clit, causing him to snicker. It warmed quickly, as he circled just the right spot, his talented surgeon's fingers applying the perfect amount of pressure and speed. I continued to pet his cock as he massaged my clit, pressing his length against my opening.

"Ooooohhhhhh… right there, I'm close…" Just as I was about to fall over the edge, we heard the doorknob to our bedroom turn and rushed to yank the sheets up over our intertwined naked bodies and make sure we were covered.

"Shoot!"

Edward bounded in. "Daddy, look! The toof fairy left me a dollar!"

"Great, Buddy, but it's not time to get up yet. Leave it under your pillow and go back to sleep. I'll come get you up in about 45 minutes, ok?"

"Ok." He wandered off, oblivious.

"Close the door," we both called.

I groaned. "Doctor, I believe the medical term for that is Cummus Interruptus."

He laughed, "Where were we?" and replaced his hand.

"No," I sighed. "Moment's gone. I don't think I can find that place again right now. Let's just…"

I stroked him once more and guided his tip to my opening.

"If you insist…" and he pressed in slowly from behind, pausing for me to adjust and then pressing further. As he drove into me, his right hand continued massaging my clit, but I was getting dry, so it was a little uncomfortable. I moved his hand up to my chest. _That's better._ His hot breath warmed the back of my neck as I reached up to run my fingers through his hair. All was slow… gentle… sensual. Spooning sex is usually so lovely, but my head just wasn't in it this morning—this could have been so much better with some more warm up time and without our little visitor.

"Unnnggghhhh," he grunted. _I guess it was good enough for him!_

"Shhhhh… kids are awake." I worried that Edward would come back and catch us in the act.

"Ok." He resumed kissing my neck to try to keep his mouth busy and therefore quiet. I moved my hand back down to his ass, pulling him closer to me for a few thrusts, and then I reached down to cup his balls. He grunted, bucked his hips, and sped up. Carlisle was ready and breathing heavily. I gave his sack a final squeeze and rubbed the tender spot right behind it. He buried his head in my shoulder as he released and clenched his teeth to try to muffle his grunts and moans of pleasure.

Panting, I moved my arm to cover his, snaking our fingers together as he pulled me closer into his chest. "I love you, Esme… so much," he whispered.

"I love you, too," I replied, feeling nice but… unfulfilled, and trying not to show my disappointment.

"I'm sorry you didn't…"

"It's ok," I interrupted as I squeezed his hand. _There's always next month_.

As our breathing slowed, he looked over at the clock. "Quarter to six—I'm gonna be late if I don't get up."

Still connected, he rolled me almost onto my belly, him on top of me, to reach for the tissue box on the nightstand. Two for me, two for him. We held them in place, said goodbye, and disconnected, catching the mess in our tissues. Neither of us liked a wet spot, so we'd developed this procedure years ago. I rested for a few minutes while he showered, then rose to clean myself up. I admired him through the glass shower door as he finished, and handed him his towel with a kiss as we traded places.

"Have a good day."

"Well, for a Tuesday, it's starting out pretty well," he smiled.

**A/N **

This story will alternate between Esme's perspective in 1990 and Bella's in 2012, so please don't leave before giving Bella her turn to speak in Chapter 2. The story is completely pre-written, so I should be able to maintain a weekly posting schedule, barring natural disaster.

Timeline: Esme and Carlisle are 38 and 40 in 1990. They've been married 15 years and together since they were 17 and 19.

Without Besotted's help, this would all be one big paragraph. THANK YOU!

Thanks also to Nayarit for the beautiful banners.

Thanks for reading. Please review and let me know what you think. This is my first try at fiction writing and I'm a little nervous!

JEN

3656 words

Twitter: JenEsmeFF

TFB ch. 1 9 edited 9/10/11


	3. Chapter 2, Bella's Busy Day

**The Fantasy Basket**

**By JenEsme**

**Inspired by Stephenie Meyers' Twilight series. No infringement intended.**

**Chapter 2—Bella: A Busy Day**

**Posted 4/25/2012**

April 27, 2012 (Friday)

I awoke to a peck on the forehead and a "time to get up," from my husband. "You gonna be ok picking up my folks?"

"Yeah," I yawned. "Can't wait to see them. Should we take them out somewhere near the hospital for dinner tonight? How about PF Chang's?"

"Can't you cook? I was planning to come home early. I have a pre-op meeting today for the big procedure on Monday and if that hits a snag, it could hold me up, but I think it'll be ok. I should be able to get out of there on time. Make your chicken enchiladas—my dad loves those!"

_Sigh_, of course he wants something that takes hours to make. Never mind everything that I have to do today to get ready for the party. "I'll see what I can put together."

"Good. I'll try to get here by six. Can you get all that crap out of the dining room?"

"It's for the party. It'll be gone tomorrow." He raised his eyebrows in exasperation as I answered. "Fine. I'll find somewhere to put it while we eat." _Argh_! Our son's 2nd birthday party was the next day, and I'd stayed up really late working on the games and decorations and favors. My husband was asleep before I finished and he obviously saw the dining room table covered with bags and balloons and everything "truck" this morning. I'd been planning to put everything in place for the party tomorrow and make the cake tonight. If I did it now, Riley would get into everything and mess it up.

"Please do so. See you tonight." And with that he was gone. Gone for the day. Off to his other home, his cleaner home, apparently—the hospital where he spends most of his life. I heard the garage door open and his car start below and checked the clock—6:30 a.m. _Ugh, I wonder if I can sleep another hour?_ I hadn't finished until 2:00 a.m.

I was almost back to sleep when I heard my door open and little feet pitter-pattering toward my bed.

"Mama, up!" A tiny person grunted as he climbed up onto my bed. I cringed as he crawled over me, sinking his knee right into my stomach.

"Let's sleep a little longer, Ri. Want to snuggle with mama?"

"Mama, UP! Go get Gamma Gampa in da zzzzzzsh." I cracked an eye open to see him doing the sign for airplane.

"We'll pick them up after lunchtime, Riley. For now, let's rest."

"Mama, poo-poo."

_Sigh_… "Ok, let's get you cleaned up." And so began my day. Another day of playing with trucks and blocks and loud electronic toys, of singing repetitive songs about busses and animals, of reading books with thick pages and incomplete sentences, of laundry and clearing Riley's personal path of destruction, and of wiping. Wiping, wiping, wiping. Wiping his hands, wiping his face, wiping his nose, wiping his butt, wiping the table, wiping the floor (not all with the same rag, of course). Whoever said stay at home moms had it easy has obviously never stayed home with a toddler, because this is more challenging than any paying job I've ever had.

I got up and changed that diaper—the first of many for the day—got both of us dressed and packed a diaper bag with an extra outfit for our trip to the airport, just in case. I gave the upstairs a final once over before my perfect, interior designer, mother-in-law arrived. It would never pass a white glove test, and she wouldn't say a word, but I want things to be nice. I love her to death, but my in-laws are pretty intimidating. It's not just the house, either, it's us. They're like the fairy tale, happily-ever-after couple, so in love, always holding hands and complimenting each other even after what must be close to forty years together. What an impossible standard to live up to. _Sigh_. Edward and I used to be like that. But now, approaching five years together, it seems like we've run out of things to say and run out of affection to share with each other. It's all about Riley. I just hope the Cullens aren't disappointed in me. I hope I'm still good enough for their precious baby boy. _Take a deep breath, and get back to work_!

I fed Riley and myself and cleaned up his breakfast mess. (Riley is now modeling outfit number two for today, a dark wash denim overall and coordinating t-shirt with an adorable teddy bear appliqué adorning the bib). While he played in the next room, I hurried to get the components of Riley's cake into the oven so I could take them out before we had to leave. I cleaned up toys, dusted ("Riley, help mama with the magic wand!"), and did a quick swipe with the vacuum downstairs, managing Riley's needs every few minutes, of course. Completing a single task from start to finish without interruption is an ancient memory. I transferred all the birthday party paraphernalia from the dining room to the office, cursing my control-freak husband under my breath as Idid this extra chore. After a quick lunch (_no change of clothing for Riley this time—hooray_!), I double checked all the food and supplies for the party to make sure I had everything and made a list of what I'd need for tonight's last-minute dinner menu. After turning the cakes onto the cooling racks, it was time to go get "Gamma and Gampa," so I hid the cake pans in the oven, to be washed later. I strapped Riley into his car seat and we hit the road.

Half an hour later, we were on the pedestrian overpass at Lindberg Field. While others walked quickly across from the parking lot to the airport terminal, pulling their roller bags and talking on their cell phones, we were stopped—hands and faces pressed to the glass, pointing out all the planes and trucks and cars and busses and taxis that we could see bustling about below.

"Wook, Mama—zzzzzzsh!" Riley flew his right arm in front of him, thumb and pinky finger extended in the sign for airplane. Everything is so fascinating to him.

"Yes, Baby, maybe one of those planes over there is the one Grandma and Grandpa flew in. Let's go find them!"

As we approached the baggage claim area, I spotted my in-laws, hand-in-hand as they waited for their luggage. She looked lovingly into his eyes as she told him something, and smiled widely as he gave her a quick kiss and went to gather one of their bags from the carousel.

_How do they do it?_ I wondered with envy.

"Mama, wook! Gamma!"

"Yes, there she is, and there's Grandpa with the big suitcase!"

"GAMMA! GAMPA!" Riley shrieked with excitement. That got their attention, and that of everyone else within hearing range. I set him down and Riley ran to his grandmother's arms.

"Welcome to San Diego," I wished them. She picked Riley up but greeted me first.

"Bella, Honey, it's so good to see you!" She hugged me. "How are you? Everything ready for the big day tomorrow?"

"Almost," I laughed. "Just have to finish the cake."

She turned her attention to Riley as Carlisle set their last bag on a cart and greeted me. "Bellissima! How are you, Dear?" He hugged me and kissed my cheek. He always smells so good—just the right amount of cologne, and an underlying hint of the stuff surgeons use to scrub with, just like Edward. "Thank you for making time in your busy day to pick us up."

"No problem, Carlisle. It's great to see you both."

He smiled and reached for Riley. "Look how big you've gotten, little man! I'll bet you're sooooo big that you can help me push the cart!"

As we made our way to the car, Esme put her arm around my waist and warmly asked all about Riley, and the party, and what I'd been up to lately. "And how's Edward? I know he's been talking to Carlisle non-stop about the big surgery on Monday. Is he nervous?"

_Hmm… big surgery?_ He mentioned something about a pre-op today, but I had no idea what she was talking about. "Um… I don't know. He tries not to bring work home with him too much. He has been working a lot of late hours lately, though."

"Oh, I know how that is… Just like his dad." I watched in the rear view mirror as they exchanged a glance. It was as if they were sharing a sad memory.

We were nearing home. "I need a few last minute things at the store. I'm sorry, but do you mind if I drop you at home and run down there while you unpack and settle in?"

"Bella, don't be silly! Just pull in there now. I'll shop with you, and Carlisle can play with Riley while we're inside."

"Are you sure?"

"Of course! Let's go."

I grabbed a grocery cart and my list as Riley led "Gampa" by the hand to the fountain down by the food court in the strip mall. Carlisle paused to give his wife a kiss. "See you soon, my love."

"I'm sorry about the stop, Esme. I thought we'd take you out to dinner tonight, but Edward said that you and Carlisle would prefer something home cooked, so I need to pick up a few ingredients."

She sighed. "He has no clue, does he? How hard you work? I can only imagine how much time you put into your spectacular parties, Bella, and keeping track of a two year old and minding that big ol' house on top of it all? You must be exhausted. Dinner out would have been a nice break."

She's right about the house. We bought this monstrous, nearly 4,000-square foot place last year because Edward didn't think it looked right for someone in his position to live in a little condo, especially since we had a family now. I loved our little condo. It was cute and very "us." I never wanted such a big place, but here we are in the "right" zip code and the "right" school district, with the "right" house on the "right" lot. Right for him, maybe. For me, it's too big to clean, too big to furnish, and too big to decorate, especially with my limited artistic skills. Luckily, Esme picks a room to help me decorate every time she comes for a visit, bless her generous heart! I'm sure I'll grow to love it eventually, but for now, it's just… overwhelming.

"Thank you," I answered with a wry laugh. "I bring it upon myself, I guess. The parties are fun and creative, but they are a lot of work. It'll be over soon!"

"Well, you work on your party tonight, and leave dinner to me."

"Esme, no…"

"I insist. You're busy enough. You shouldn't have to entertain Carlisle and me, so let me help out. I'll make Eddie-Bear something he liked growing up, and we'll see if Riley takes after Daddy."

I laughed at his childhood nickname. He's always so serious and professional now, I can't imagine Edward being called "Eddie-Bear."

"Well, only if you promise to teach me how to make it."

"Deal," she answered with a single nod.

I enjoyed cooking with Esme. She taught me Edward's favorite childhood recipe and it was nice to have some company in the kitchen. She was sharing the latest news about my brother-in-law Emmett's family. They live in Seattle and have two little boys and his wife Rosalie is pregnant.

"Carlisle's father was so excited when they found out the baby's a girl. This will be the first Cullen girl in four generations. He brought out his huge old bible and was suggesting old family names for them to use. There were some real doozies: Sulpicia and Didyme and Athenadora…" She raised her eyebrows and shook her head. I laughed.

The garage door started to rumble and we heard Edward's car pull in. "Here, Honey, I can do this." She took the spoon from my hand and took over stirring the pot I'd been tending. "Go pour a glass of that lemonade we made and greet him at the door. Quick! Beat him there!" I did as she told, scowling behind her back at her antiquated notion of serving him like that. _What is this, the 50s?_

"Hello? Where's my Mini Me?" Edward called out, just like always, only Riley didn't come running.

"Sorry, you just get me today. Your dad took Riley down to the tot lot."

"Oh, they made it, huh?" I nodded as Edward put his bag in the coat closet and hung his keys on the hook. He turned to me and gave me a peck on the lips, "Hi," and a cursory look before peering over my shoulder to seek out his mother.

"Here you go, Clarkie." I handed him the glass of lemonade. That got his attention, and he smiled at my use of the nickname I gave him in college. "Thanks. What's this?"

"Your mom's special recipe."

His eyes lit up. "Really? Did she teach you? I've always loved this."

"Edward!" Esme approached, drying her hands on a dishtowel before she threw them around her son in a hug. "Hi, Honey."

"Mom—Good to see you!" He was animated as he hugged her and kissed her on the cheek with a warm smile. It was a lot different from the reception he'd had for me.

"We'll catch up later. I don't want dinner to burn. Granny's Beef Stroganoff!" His eyebrows shot up in excitement. "Now, you two sit here and talk about your day while there's some quiet." She retreated back to the kitchen.

He set his drink on a coaster and plopped down on the couch. "Why's _Mom_ cooking?" he demanded, knitting his brow.

"She insisted," I shrugged. "She wanted to make 'Eddie-Bear's favorite,' so I told her she could, but only if she taught me how to make it." I hoped I wouldn't miss too much of the recipe, sitting here, and wondered how long we had to stick around.

"Oh." He chuckled and shook his head, understanding that I never could have swayed his mom. Edward finished off his lemonade and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand as he set his glass on the table. "This is funny."

"What?"

"This." He waved his hand between the two of us. "My parents used to do this every day. Whenever one of them would come home, the other would drop whatever they were doing to sit and talk for a few minutes. We weren't allowed to disturb them, but Em and I were always trying to come up with ways to trick them out of it. Faking injuries and emergencies and stuff. Huh… I'd almost forgotten about it."

"Really? How'd they do that when you were little?"

"I don't know. I don't think they started it until I was older. Elementary school, maybe."

"Hmm. I was wondering what she was doing, telling me to bring you a drink and greet you at the door." I rolled my eyes. "I guess I can play along: How was your day, Dear?" I asked in a sarcastic, high-pitched voice as I batted my eyes.

"Ohhhh," he groaned and leaned back on the couch, rubbing his eyes with the heels of his hands and then running his fingers through his hair. "Man, it was crazy today. Everybody's going nuts getting ready for the…"

"MA-MAAAA!" Carlisle came in the front door, carrying a sobbing, teary Riley in his arms.

"Oh, Baby, what happened?" I jumped up and took Riley gently from my father-in-law, hugging him close and rocking him back and forth as I cooed in his ear to soothe him. Carlisle described Riley pushing a truck underneath a picnic table at the park and then standing up and bumping his head. It was nothing serious, but he felt really bad about Riley getting hurt on his watch. I assured him that it was fine—things like that happened all the time lately. He was just at that height right now. Edward placed his ice-filled lemonade glass against the baby's head until Esme rushed in with an ice pack to replace it. Riley wanted Daddy and climbed from my arms to Edward's, so I took the glass, patted Carlisle on the back, pleading with him to stop apologizing, and led him to the kitchen. Two minutes later, Riley's world was right again, and it was as if nothing had ever happened. I re-joined Esme behind the stove, completely forgetting the conversation I'd been having with Edward when the chaos ensued.

Her dinner was a big hit. The food was great, even if the ambiance was not. I had managed to stow all the party paraphernalia elsewhere, but we hadn't worked on the dining room yet, so it was a big white box of a room with nothing but a table, chairs, and a china cabinet. Oh well, the company was good. After all was eaten and cleaned up, I got to work on Riley's cake. He loves trucks and big construction equipment. We'd stopped once a couple of months ago to watch a road crew repave a parking lot and Riley pointed out the names of ALL the trucks "… paver… dump truck… roller…" so I knew a truck theme would be a hit among his two year oldpeers. I was making a 3-D cake in the shape of a dump truck, bright yellow with chocolate donuts for wheels and crushed Oreo "dirt" in the back. In my mind, it would stand about a foot tall, and look pretty close to the toy truck he takes to the park to haul sand in. I just had to build it, frost it, and hope it worked!

"The three boys are playing. May I help you with anything?" Esme asked. She saw the shape that the cake had taken, carefully cut and constructed according to the sketches I'd drawn and held together with sticky buttercream icing, skewers, and pieces of drinking straws.

"Wow, Bella, that's incredible! You truly are a sculptor, with cake as your medium. It's edible art." Coming from her, an artist who had studied in Paris, it was quite a compliment.

"Oh, thanks! Too bad it'll be gone after a day, huh?"

Later, Edward tucked Riley in and was deep in conversation with his father about something at work. Esme arranged all the decorations and party favors, set up the games, and got the house and yard ready for the party the next day as I constructed the truck. With her decorator's touch, everything looked beautiful. The woman was a godsend. Soon, everyone else went to bed—Carlisle leading Esme up the stairs with his hand on her back, Edward with a quick "g'night!" to me—and I continued with my cake, squeezing yellow star after yellow star of icing to cover the chocolate underneath. Boredom and exhaustion made my thoughts flow: I wished Edward would at least try to show some affection for me. _Is a kiss goodnight too much to ask? Have I done something wrong to make him stop loving me?_

My hand was starting to ache, my eyes to droop, and my mind to wander into really dangerous territory: _Will I be able to hold onto him much longer? What was he doing with Dr. Clearwater last week? _I scooped more icing into the pastry bag and worked the air bubbles out as I replayed the scene in my head, trying to make sense of it. I wanted to surprise Edward by taking him some dinner when he had to work the late shift. As I stood at the nurses' station with the stroller waiting to ask someone to page him, I saw Leah Clearwater step through a door across the hall with Edward following right behind her. They were both smiling and laughing. He put his hand on her upper arm and I wish I could read lips, because he said something to her—I couldn't tell what—and then she stopped and gave him a hug before they headed opposite ways down the hallway. I just left his dinner with the receptionist, too upset to eat with him. My eyes started to blur as I squeezed yellow star after yellow star onto Riley's cake and my eyes teared up at the memory of my husband hugging that woman and smiling at her and, _Oh my god, what else had they been doing?_ He hadn't even said goodbye to me that morning, much less shared a smile or a hug with ME. My pastry bag hit an air bubble, sputtered, and produced a mangled star that I had to scrape off the cake with my palette knife. I sniffled and tried not to cry as I worried. _Would he? Could he be cheating on me with Dr. Clear_…

Esme surprised me in the kitchen, wearing a silky short robe and a dreamy smile. "Oh, Bella! You're still up?" She blushed and pulled her robe tighter, the shock of seeing me snuffing out her obvious post-coital glow. "I just came down to get a glass of water," she said with a sheepish smile as she took two glasses from the cabinet.

"Mmm hmm. Well, at least someone's getting some in this house!" I was feeling really punchy from being so tired and thinking such negative thoughts. _Did I really just say that to my mother-in-law? Oh my god!_ I gasped and covered my face with my sticky hands in embarrassment "I'm so sorry. I can't believe I said that!" She laughed it off.

"Honey, you need to get up to bed. It's 2:00 a.m."

"I just finished the cake, finally. I'll be up as soon as I get this mess cleaned up."

"Oh, look at that! It's gorgeous! Bella, you're amazing!"

Tears came to my eyes as I scraped icing out of my Kitchen Aid into a plastic container. "Thanks. I'm glad YOU think so!" I wondered how much longer I'd have her as my mother-in-law, and the tears started to fall.

"Sweetheart, what's wrong?" She took the bowl and scraper from me and gave me one of the glasses of water. "Tell me what's going on."

I took a few gulps. "How do you and Carlisle do it? You're always so… affectionate and happy! I thought that since Edward grew up with you, he'd be like that, too. But he won't even touch me anymore. He barely even talks to me. It's like we're just… roommates. Ever since we had the baby it's gotten worse and worse. I don't think he loves me anymore. It's like he gives it all to Riley and his job, and there's nothing left for me. I'm just the housekeeper and the babysitter." I started sobbing as I realized, "Oh my god, I shouldn't tell YOU this, you're his mom!"

"Oh, Honey…" she pulled me into a hug, rubbing my back and rocking me until I calmed down.

"You guys are always holding hands and laughing and looking into each other's eyes…" I sniffed. "How do you do it? How do you keep that going? You guys are just… perfect."

She took me by the upper arms and looked into my watery eyes, shaking her head. "Bella, it hasn't always been this way for us."

I scoffed.

"I've been exactly where you are right now, felt exactly the same things you are feeling about your marriage," she insisted.

"Yeah, right." I rolled my eyes.

"I'm serious! Jeez, some of the things you said were even the same WORDS I used about Carlisle twenty years ago. It's kind of spooky. Like a depressing kind of déjà vu. But Bella, Edward loves you."

I sniffed and shook my head in disbelief.

"He LOVES you, more than ANYthing. But love changes after you've been married awhile, especially after you have children. It's easy to start taking each other for granted. It's so easy to lose hold of each other. Keeping your flame alive takes a conscious effort. It's a choice you both make, every day. It isn't easy, but nothing worthwhile ever is."

"You sure make it look easy."

"It wasn't at first." She knit her eyebrows. "But it's so worth it Bella."

"What do we do?" I begged.

"We finish these dishes, get some rest, and have a nice long talk after the party is over. Now get the pans out of the oven." She patted me on the back. I flushed with embarrassment and hung my head.

"Honey, I've been there." She gave me a quick kiss on the cheek. "Now move!"

I finally made it to bed at a quarter to three, pondering what Esme had said. I could not even imagine her and Carlisle ever being distant or snippy with one another. They were always so lovey-dovey. _Well, if it's true, then at least I know there's hope for Edward and me to get past this slump we're in_. I slipped into bed and scooched over to snuggle against my sleeping husband. I couldn't see in the dark, but I leaned in to kiss whatever part of him I could reach. I think it was his elbow. "I love you," I whispered. Desperate for some physical contact with him, my foot touched his leg. He jumped when he felt my chilly toes, pulled it away, and rolled over, taking most of the covers with him. _Sigh, I hope there's hope anyway_.

**Esme's POV**

I finally brought Carlisle his glass of water at a quarter to three. I was saddened to see Bella's breakdown and hear about her frustration with Edward. It brought back some painful memories of a difficult time, and I was so sorry that she and my son were going through this. I set the glass on the nightstand and slipped out of my robe and into bed. My husband pulled me into a close cuddle and ran his feet along my legs.

"Brr! What took so long, my pretty little cold one?"

"Bella just finished her cake, and I helped with the dishes so she could get to bed. Sorry to keep you waiting. I thought you'd be asleep, Sweetie."

"Hmm," I could feel his smile against the side of my head. "You certainly did tire me out! I was dozing, but you know I can't sleep well without you."

I giggled and kissed him. "I love you SO much," I sighed.

"I love you, too. What's wrong, Baby?"

"Oh, Carlisle, it just breaks my heart. Bella asked me how you and I manage to stay so in love. Apparently she and Edward are having a rough patch. She feels neglected and unloved."

"Oh no! That sounds like us!"

I nodded sadly in agreement.

"Edward seemed a little off tonight, too. Totally engaged when we talked about work. All smiles for Riley—he's a great dad. But when anything about Bella came up he seemed kind of tense."

"She asked what our secret was. What should I tell her?" We talked for awhile about how we'd turned things around, what things had had the greatest impact for each of us. What we'd share with the kids. "Should I tell her about The Fantasy Basket?"

"Well it certainly helped us! In more ways than one." He laughed.

"I don't know if I can talk to my daughter-in-law about her sex life with my son! That may just be too… ick! And she may not want to hear about you and me playing out our fantasies… I mean, no one wants to know about their parents being intimate, much less hear the details! I don't want to ruin my relationship with Bella by putting those images into her head. And what about you? She may never be able to look you in the eye again!"

"Ezzy," Carlisle said. "She's a grown woman. Married, with a child. She can handle it. NOT talking about things is probably what led to this trouble in the first place. Remember when you told me that a happy marriage was the best gift we could give the boys?"

I nodded.

"Well, I don't think our parenting job is finished quite yet. Now it's time for us to help our boy and his wife learn that lesson themselves. It will help them. And helping them will help Riley. You get to do it, though. I gave the last sex talk."

"Carlisle! That was what… 15 years ago?" I laughed. "You're right, though. When I surprised her in the kitchen, she knew exactly what we'd been up to. She even teased me about it a little. Unfortunately, I think that's what triggered her breakdown."

"See, she's a big girl. You can tell her about The Fantasy Basket without being too specific. And if she gets grossed out, you can always give her a safe word!" he teased with a slap to my tush.

"Carlisle! You naughty boy…"

"Good night, my love."

* * *

**A/N**

Timeline: Bella is 26 and Edward is 28. I would have liked to have made them a little older than this, but couldn't make the timeline work with certain storylines. (I tried. Believe me, I tried!) If you can overlook the timeline, please imagine them as around 30 and 32, married for around 8 years. They live in San Diego. In Bella's present-day side of the story, Esme is 60 and Carlisle is 62. They are visiting from Seattle.

Next chapter, we'll be back to Esme in 1990.

Besotted helps my tense, even when she's sick. Many, many thanks! And she's the best promoter ever for rec-ing The Fantasy Basket in her story and on adifferentforest.

Thanks to Nayarit for the beautiful banners.

Thanks for reading. Now that you've heard from Bella, I'd love to hear what you think.

JEN

4865 words

Twitter: JenEsmeFF


	4. Chapter 3, Esme

**The Fantasy Basket**

**By JenEsme**

**Inspired by Stephenie Meyers' Twilight series. No infringement intended.**

**Posted 5/2/12**

**Chapter 3—Esme: The Reunion**

**September 1990**

"Ready? Let's get a move on. You said it starts at 7:00, right?" Carlisle asked, checking his watch.

"I'm ready. Carlisle, you look…"

"Boys? Come say goodbye!" he interrupted, as if I weren't even there. Emmett and Edward came tearing down the hallway, nearly knocking their father over, ten year old Emmet hugging Carlisle around the waist and six year old Edward leaping into his arms.

"Bye Daddy, we love you!"

"I love you, too. Miss you already," Carlisle replied as he showered the boys with kisses and tousled their messy hair. "Be good for Mrs. Banner, ok?" Edward's old preschool teacher was the best babysitter ever, and was happy to stay with the boys overnight.

"We will, Dad."

"Bye Mom. Love you!" My sons each hugged me and kissed my cheek. "You look pretty dressed up all fancy, Mama."

"Thanks Eddie-Bear." _At least one of the males in this house noticed_.

Carlisle watched the boys with loving eyes. Eyes that rarely met mine anymore. He's such a good father. I hated taking him away from the kids when their time with their daddy was so limited. I felt a little guilty when I booked a room at the hotel for the night of the reunion. Was it selfish of me to want to spend a night with my husband? We really needed some time alone without distractions or interruptions. Things had been so distant between us lately, and I hoped that we could reconnect a little this weekend.

"Thanks for coming tonight. I may need the moral support."

"You nervous?" he asked as he pulled onto the freeway, speeding up and darting aggressively through the Friday night traffic. His car was no minivan!

"A little. Carmen's the only one I've kept in touch with, other than a couple of girls on my Christmas card list. She and I agreed to talk to other people tonight instead of each other, though. We'll compare notes at breakfast tomorrow. I wonder if anyone will remember me after 20 years?"

"Esme, you were a cheerleader. Everyone will remember you."

"Ugh—the cheerleaders! They're the ones I DON'T want to see."

"Give them a chance, Es, I'm sure they've changed." That's my Carlisle—always so kind, giving everyone the benefit of the doubt. I wasn't feeling quite so forgiving.

"Yeah, maybe now the queen witch Maria is fat and twice divorced, working as a secretary in a dumpy little office, gossiping all day long and reading celebrity magazines to try and forget her pathetic little life."

"Do I detect a little bitterness?" he chuckled.

"Who, me? Never!" I replied, dripping with sarcasm. The cheerleaders on my varsity squad had been an army of pure evil, led by a demon named Maria. I loved cheering, but those girls? Ugh! I shudder at the memory. For some reason, Maria took a dislike to me early on, and influenced the others to snub me as well. They put on a good show when the squad was on display—all the fans we cheered for and our teachers and coaches thought we were all the best of friends, smiling and hugging. But once the spotlight was off, the girls went wild, partying and gossiping, attacking anyone perceived to be less important than they were, which was just about everyone.

I was always a "nice" girl—didn't drink or smoke or swear or sleep around—and while I tried to be friends with everyone during cheer practices and games and to never judge others for the choices they made, I certainly didn't go out partying with them or participate in their gossip. Unfortunately, that was all the fuel they needed to put a target on my back. Just because I chose not to get drunk every weekend with them and sleep my way through the football team, they spread rumors and pulled mean pranks and basically shunned me.

Poor Carlisle. I had started dating him that awful year, and he was always my shoulder to cry on when the girls got under my skin. He helped me realize that just because I COULD be a cheerleader, didn't necessarily mean I SHOULD be one if it was making me miserable. So, when it came time for senior year tryouts, I decided I'd had enough and didn't bother showing up. That was unheard of—girls who earned a coveted spot on the Varsity squad as a junior ALWAYS cheered as a senior. The tryout was just a technicality. I was willingly walking away from top-level popularity and status at our school, but I didn't care. I would miss the cheerleading itself, but the people I had to work with made it intolerable. Why should I willingly subject myself to more torture? Besides, I was dating a college boy—I was so DONE with high school. True to her character, when I didn't try out, Maria told everyone that I hadn't made the squad because I had such a bad personality. What an evil beast!

"It's been 20 years, Es. She may have matured into a much different person. Maybe now you'll even like her." _Oh please, Carlisle, whose side are you on? _

"Yeah, right!" I couldn't believe his optimism. For the brilliant man that he is, he knows nothing about women. "Well, at least I'll be on the arm of the most handsome man in the room. She'll be so jealous," I sniggered.

"Pull the claws in, Es. I don't want you to snag my Armani."

I smiled. "Do you realize you've had this car for almost a year and this is only the third time I've been in it?" He had bought the Porsche for his 40th birthday. Very cliché, I told him. I just hoped he wasn't continuing the cliché by giving the nurses at the hospital free "rides" in his sexy car.

"Really? Well, maybe we'll just have to get you one of your own in two years." I would rather just have him take me out in his once in awhile.

"Sure. I can just stick the boys in the trunk. Do you think Emmett will fit? He's getting pretty big."

He laughed.

"Actually, I'd rather have a trip—just you and me on a beach somewhere. No worries…hmm, maybe Australia? I'd love to visit a whole new continent. Or we could go back to Paris, where I spent my 20th birthday."

"You know how hard it is for me to get away," he groused, dismissively. I frowned.

"I know I'll only turn 40 once." We were quiet until he pulled into the driveway at the hotel.

"Just relax and have fun tonight. I've got your back if you need it, ok?" _Now he's back to nice. _

I nodded as he tossed his keys to the valet, buttoned his jacket, and offered me his arm. All eyes were on the incomparably handsome Dr. Cullen as he led me to the ballroom. That made me more nervous than the prospect of meeting any of my old classmates.

"I remember that girl. Still wish I could've felt those feathers," Carlisle whispered with a grin as he attached my name tag to my dress. They had included our senior class pictures, in which each girl wore a pale pink drape with marabou trim and each boy wore a tux with a ruffled shirt, next to our maiden and married names. I remembered getting that picture taken the summer before senior year. Carlisle had driven me to the photography studio and stood behind the photographer, undressing me with his eyes as my photo was taken. It gave me a nice blush and gleam in my eye for the yearbook picture. "I like you in feathers. I wish I could've felt them," he'd whispered in my ear. After the photo session, he took me to see the Wizard of Oz—it was a Judy Garland commemorative, since she had just died—and we made out like crazy.

The reunion was a lot more fun than I'd expected. For the most part, people were warm and friendly, talking about kids and jobs and reminiscing about high school memories. The photo-name tags turned out to be very helpful because some people looked completely different after 20 years. We spoke with old friends and acquaintances and met their spouses. I even got to know and like some classmates now who I hadn't really known in high school for whatever reason. Carlisle was his charismatic self, befriending all the men and charming all the women. It was nice to see the confident, sexy, outgoing man I had dated and married instead of the tense, clipped person who barely made eye contact when he comes home to me every night.

I missed this man—the man I had fallen in love with. It seemed that a lot of my classmates had experienced similar ruts in their relationships. I was shocked at the number of people who had divorced, some more than once. I'd never believed the common statistic that half of all marriages end in divorce, but I could see it here in flesh and blood. Just as disheartening were the people who seemed to have settled into unhappy lives. Many of the married couples seemed so disconnected from each other and I worried that I appeared just the same to them. I wondered, _was this just life after a certain age? Was there no more joy or enthusiasm between partners when you approached 40? Did love for each other give way to love for your children?_ I sighed in resignation and laid my head on Carlisle's shoulder.

"Tired?"

"No, just thinking…"

"Let me get you something to drink." As Carlisle walked toward the bar, I watched all the eyes in the room follow him. I'll admit that he's dazzling, but many women made no effort at all to disguise their attraction to him. He's a married man with children, for crying out loud! I shook my head in disbelief. The reunion was in full swing now. As the night wore on and the alcohol took effect, the dynamic in the room changed. Old cliques started to regroup—people abandoning their lonely spouses to drink alone like wallflowers at the prom. Old attitudes started to reemerge. Gossip started flowing freely.

"I need to visit the ladies room. I'll meet you back here in a bit."

As I finished in the restroom and struggled to pull my nylons up straight and rearrange my dress in the tiny stall, I overheard a group of boisterous women enter the room to primp in the mirror.

"Did you see that total babe up in the front?"

"The blonde? Oh my god, yes! I think he's here with Esme." It was Maria and her two cheerleader minions. I had managed to avoid them all night, and now here I was stuck in the bathroom hearing them lust over my husband.

"You're kidding."

"No, did you see the Porsche they arrived in?"

"Talk about man on a stick."

"Huh?"

"Man on a stick! Don't you want to unwrap him and lick him all over?" The other two giggled.

"He is a total babe, and Michelle said he's a doctor, too."

"Jeez, how the hell did Miss Goody Two Shoes land that fine specimen?" Maria scoffed, "That much man has needs that I'm sure Miss Never-Been-Drunk can't even imagine fulfilling. He's got to screw around, don't you think? Can you imagine that prude being enough for him?"

"Maria, you're terrible!" Lucy was always the nicest of the three.

"She's just the window dressing, I'll bet. The pretty little wifey who's good enough on paper to have his kids, cook dinner for his boss, and decorate his arm for charity events. Men like that usually keep a little something on the side so they can get their freak on."

"I don't know, Maria." That was Nettie for sure. I remembered her nasally voice.

"Maybe Esme has a secret side. Don't you remember the theories about her senior year?"

"What?"

"You know…That she was a pro. She always had money, even though her parents were dead. She went off campus for lunch almost every day, and why wouldn't she try out for Senior Varsity Cheer unless she needed her weekends free for other, more lucrative activities?" Nettie laughed.

"What do you mean she didn't try out? She didn't make it because she was such a stuck-up bitch!"

"No, Maria, I was one of the peers on the selection committee. She didn't turn in an application or show up for tryouts or anything, so we couldn't even schedule an interview. God, I can't believe you don't remember this!"

"No way. Esme the pro? That's not possible. She was always so sweet and nice." At least Lucy was defending me.

"Yeah, maybe nicer to some than others!" They laughed.

"Let's go try to talk to them. Since Dr. Sexy will be starring in my fantasies for awhile, I want to get a closer look at him and find out what name to scream."

"Hell with that, Maria. Let's go talk to him and see if he'd like to ditch the bitch and join us upstairs for a private party for four?"

"Make it three. I'm here with Jim, remember?"

"Your loss, Lucy!" They cackled, heels echoing against the cold tile floor.

I struggled to hold back my sobs until I heard the door close behind them. I splashed some cold water on my face and hurried back to join Carlisle before those vamps could sink their teeth into him. As my eyes scanned the ballroom, I spotted Carmen and Eleazar sitting with our old friends Janet and Lynn and their husbands. After a quick hello, I asked if they'd seen Carlisle. Eleazar said he's seen him talking to Joe Newton and offered to walk me over to where he was.

"Esme, are you ok?" Carmen asked.

"I'll tell you about it in the morning, ok? I just… I have to find Carlisle, right now." Eleazar led me in the direction he'd last seen my husband. He brushed past the three leeches who hovered nearby, ready to pounce, and found Carlisle in an animated conversation with Joe Newton, former student body president, about the latest health care reform. Joe had done well for himself. He owned a chain of sporting goods stores throughout Washington and Oregon and was the favored candidate in a run for the state senate. Joe was a good guy. I always knew he'd do well.

"Hey, Dr. C! Look who I found."

"Oh, there you are! Eleazar, great to see you, my friend. How's Carmen? I hear congratulations are in order."

"Thanks, Doc. She's wonderful. I swear she gets more beautiful with every child she carries for me. I'd better get back to her before one of her many old admirers swoops in to steal her away. See you tomorrow. Joe, great to see you again. How's the campaign…"

As the two men wandered away, I clasped my arms tightly around my husband and buried my face in his chest.

"Esme, what's wrong?"

"You've got my back, right?" I whispered urgently, "I need you to kiss me, Carlisle, kiss me with passion like you used to."

With a confused look, he leaned down and took my face in his hands. My eyes darted toward the trio of cheerleaders (still skinny and slutty as ever) and he understood. He looked into my eyes and whispered "I'll make your troubles go away." He kissed me twice tenderly, and then deepened his kiss and his embrace, moving his right hand to my hair and his left down my neck and chest, grazing my breast as he moved it around to my back, pulling my body flush against his with his fingers splayed so his wedding ring was in full view of our three unwelcome onlookers. As Carlisle's warm tongue lapped against mine, I glanced over to see Lucy respectfully turned away, Nettie turned sideways stealing a few quick glimpses out of the corner of her eye, and Maria facing us directly staring blatantly with undisguised lust, her jaw partly open, chest heaving with deep breaths, one hand on her stomach and the other clutching her skirt.

_What a sleaze_ I thought, as Carlisle pulled my head to the side and moved his mouth to my neck.

Working his way up to my ear, his hand moved down to my ass, pulling my pelvis into contact with his and he began to rock gently against me as he whispered, "Show's over, let's get out of here Es," into my ear. He turned to gather his jacket and my clutch from the table, ensuring that Maria got a clear view of the erection he sported. As he led me away past my tormentors, he turned his eyes in an icy blue glare at Maria, leaned in toward her face while adjusting himself seductively, and murmured "not for you, not ever. There's only one woman who can handle this." His hand shifted from his crotch to my lower back as he covered himself with the jacket in his other hand and led me toward the exit and up to our room.

As the elevator doors closed, Carlisle laughed, "How was that? Did we give them a good show?"

"It was perfect. You were perfect. Better than you know," I murmured, trying to hold back tears. He gave me a confused look and rushed me to our room, where I broke down as soon as the door clicked shut. Carlisle caught me in his arms as I started to collapse and moved me to the bed. He held me until the strongest sobs subsided. Then he took my shoes off, brought me a box of tissue from the bathroom, and looked through my bag for pajamas. I had brought a silky nightgown, but as he glanced over to see me blowing my nose and hiccuping, he grabbed a t-shirt from his bag instead. Tonight I needed comfort. As he reached around my back to unzip my dress, I nuzzled my head into the nook of his shoulder and took a deep, shuddering breath.

"You ok?" he asked, lifting my face with a finger under my chin.

I nodded sadly and shifted to change out of my dress and into the t-shirt.

"Wanna talk about it?"

I nodded again, not quite sure if I could talk without my voice breaking yet.

"Sorry," I whispered.

"For asking me to put on a show with you? Ezzy, you've done that for me a million times to get rid of unwelcome admirers. I'm happy to do the same for you."

"No, not that…"

"Well, what on earth do you have to feel sorry for? You're the one who's upset. Please tell me why."

"For not being good enough for you." I burst into tears.

"WHAT? What are you talking about?"

I took a deep breath and began, "Those three women were the worst of the cheerleaders. I think you recognized Maria, right?" He nodded. "I overheard them in the bathroom. They didn't know I was there and said some awful things… horrible things."

"Yeah?"

"They were talking about how sexy you are and how they wanted to offer you a threesome."

His eyes grew wide.

"They couldn't believe that you were with a prude like me because I could never be wild enough for you. They said that you just married me because I was good wife material for having babies and giving dinner parties for your boss but you probably keep a real woman on the side to meet your needs."

"Oh, dear god, Esme, you know I would NEVER…"

I held my hand up to stop him so I could continue. "Then Nettie said maybe I had a secret wild side and didn't they remember the theories about me senior year." He tilted his head questioningly. "Seems people were calling me a whore because I had more money than they thought I should (which was my mom's life insurance) and 'cause I never ate lunch on campus (because I was so sick of high school that I always met you for lunch) and since I didn't try out for the squad again, I must be turning tricks on the weekends instead."

"WHAT? Are you fucking kidding me?" Carlisle was mad. He never swears.

"And then…"

"There's more? How could they possibly say anything more to hurt you? How could they say anything worse than that?" Carlisle's eyes were wet as he shook his head in rage.

"And then as they were leaving Maria said she wanted to get a closer look at you so she'd have a good picture for her fantasies and a name to scream out." I sniffed as tears fell down my cheeks.

"Oh my g-. No fucking way! Those slutty fucking bitches!" Carlisle shouted as he stood up and started to pace. He slapped the wall with each word, and covered his face as he paced a few laps around the room to calm himself down. He was muttering under his breath about how he wished he were normal looking and how his stupid looks caused so much trouble for me, and how could anyone treat another person so badly. I had never seen him so angry or heard him utter such foul language in the 21 years I had known him.

"Carlisle?" I patted the bed next to me and he sat, head in hands, elbows on knees as I rubbed his back and shoulders. "They're just jealous. I shouldn't have told you. It's a burden you don't need to bear. I'm sorry."

"What? Dammit, Esme, I want you to tell me everything! It's NOT a burden. It's YOU." I flinched at his angry outburst. He put his hand on my shoulder to reassure me.

"I'm sorry, but jeez, I… I feel like Carmen knows you better than I do nowadays. We never talk anymore. I need you to talk to me…"

"You feel that way, too?"

He turned his head around to look back into my eyes and nodded. "Yes. I miss you. I miss… us… the way we used to be. You were my best friend."

"I miss you, too. That's another reason I was so upset tonight. Even before the cheerleaders, I was feeling insecure. Seeing all those people who are divorced and people who seem to have settled into unhappy lives set my mind thinking about how distant we've become. I wonder if we're headed there, too? It seems like everything we've got in us goes to the kids or the job or the house, and all that you've got left for me is the leftover scraps. No love, no affection, no touch. I can't even remember the last time I had a good look in your beautiful blue eyes, Carlisle."

I started to cry again and he turned his body to face me, pulling me into his lap, watery eyes gazing sadly into mine. I sighed and continued. "And then to see ALL THOSE WOMEN staring at you all night… wanting you… and I know that happens all the time. I just feel so lonely and dead inside I wouldn't be surprised if you wanted to find someone new and exciting. I trust you and I know you wouldn't stray, but I can see how easy it would be for you to do so. You're surrounded by temptation and opportunity every day and apparently I'm not _wild_ enough for a _fine piece of man_ like you." I spat out the final words, spitefully. As I spoke, he buried his head in my chest and began to rock us gently.

"Ezzy… My Ezzy… I would never… never ever." He looked intently into my eyes, "I promised you love and fidelity until death do us part and I intend to keep that promise. No dumping, remember?"

My lips curved into a watery smile. "I'm scared of losing you, Carlisle. I hate what we've become." He tightened his arms around me once more.

"I'm so sorry I've stopped showing you how much you mean to me. I don't know how that happened. You're my one and only and I'm yours. That's a rare thing nowadays, and I'd never sacrifice it. Women don't want ME, Ezzy, they just covet my face, my body. You're the only one who truly knows me or wants ME." He placed my hand over his heart, covered with his own, and rested his forehead against mine. A moment later, he lifted his head with a devious look in his eye and took a deep breath, puffing up his chest. "You just get this primo packaging as a special bonus," he boasted, quirking an eyebrow and flexing a bicep.

I snorted and pushed him over onto his back. "Shut up, you ego maniac. If they only knew that you're an even bigger prude than I am!" I laughed and kissed him.

"Hey! Everything I know I learned from you. No wild woman on the side is necessary, thankyouverymuch."

I sat up, pensive. "Really? Is it really enough? I only know what you've taught me, too, you know. But… do you ever wish you could try something new—with me, I mean! Do you have any… fantasies?" I blushed and looked down. "I mean, it was kind of exciting to hear you cuss, preacher boy." I looked up at him under my eyelashes.

His eyebrows shot up. "Really?" he asked, rolling us over so he was on top of me. "So if I whispered into your ear," and he did, "'Esme, my love, I'm going to fuck your brains out now' you'd like that?" I blushed, covered my mouth with my hand self consciously, and shrugged. We both burst into laughter and rolled on the bed, kissing, cheerleaders and hurt feelings forgotten for now.

He didn't f- my brains out that night. He loved me. And I loved him. He sat at my feet and asked my forgiveness, and I asked his. We prayed together for help reigniting our marriage. And we worshipped each other, gazing into one another's eyes and feeling our love start to flow again with every gentle kiss, every trembling touch, every quavering breath, and every whispered promise. I made love to the man inside the beautiful face and body, the compassionate, caring, tender soul who'd given stability and a sense of home to a lonely 17 year old orphan. And he made love to me, the girl who had brought art, beauty, and whimsy to his strict and structured existence as a preacher's only son. I invited him inside my body, something we had only ever shared with each other. Our souls touched each time we rocked, each time we pressed closer together, and they connected completely, becoming one as we climaxed.

"Carlisle… Esme… I love you…" we whispered together. No other words were necessary as tears flowed from our eyes, two green, two blue, and mixed on our cheeks. After years of hurt and neglect and complaisance we'd inflicted upon each other, we were forgiven. We were reborn.

A/N

I'd love to hear YOUR reunion stories.

Besotted cures my comma problems. Many, many thanks!

Thanks for reading. Please let me know what you think.

JEN

Twitter: JenEsmeFF

Word count: 4537

TFB ch. 3 11 edited 12/21/11


	5. Chapter 4, Bella: Riley's Party

**The Fantasy Basket**

**By JenEsme**

**Inspired by Stephenie Meyers' Twilight series. No infringement intended.**

**Chapter 4—Bella: Riley's Birthday**

**Posted 5/9/12**

April 28, 2012 (Saturday)

I'd gotten 4 ½ hours of sleep when my sweaty husband, just in from his run, nudged me awake. "Hey, Babe. It's 7:30. Time to get up."

"Mmmm… Gimme another half hour," I groaned, still exhausted from my late night decorating the truck cake.

He shook my shoulder again from where he stood next to the bed, "Nope. You told me to get you up at 7:30. Come on. How late were you up last night, anyway?"

"Uhm…" I yawned and wiped the sleep from my eyes. "3:00, I think."

"Oh, Bell," he sighed. "Well, I started some coffee downstairs. That'll perk you up. C'mon." He yanked the covers off of me and pulled me by the hands into a sitting position. My body passed right through the upright position and didn't stop moving until my head flopped into his stomach.

"Eww!" I recoiled and lay back down, covering my face with my elbow. A face full of his sweat-drenched shirt was not a pleasant way to regain consciousness.

Edward laughed, "That'll wake you up! C'mon—up and at 'em!" He clapped three times and headed toward the shower.

"Hey," he mentioned as he stepped into the shower, "I invited Leah, by the way. They might stop by today." I frowned and tried to stave off a pang of jealousy toward Edward's bestie. They work together and bonded over him being the 'kid' and her being the 'girl' among the old-boy doctors club. If that weren't enough, now since Edward joined the hospital marathon team they train together, too. All the time. It doesn't help that she is gorgeous. And powerful. A little scary. And completely awesome.

She is not your typical cardiologist. She's in her mid 30s, has straight jet-black hair that falls to the middle of her back, is almost six feet tall without the high heels she always wears, and sports very fashionable designer clothes (typically with short skirts) under her lab coat. Edward said that the joke around the hospital is that she sends half her patients back into cardiac arrest once they wake up from surgery and see her. Her husband Seth is her polar opposite. They're a hoot. He's a freelance graphic designer/creative director, and is the most laid back, easy going, friendly surfer dude you'd ever meet, but he's sharp as a tack and extremely successful despite his casual demeanor.

I didn't honestly think that Edward cheated on me with her—that was just my 2:30 am exhaustion making me paranoid last night—or was it? Whatever that was I witnessed last week was still bothering me, but he wouldn't cheat on me… would he?

"Great." _Can't wait to have her outshine me at my own party, too. Thanks, Edward. _

Half an hour later, dressed and mostly revived by the coffee, pre-party preparations were in full force. My friend Alice came over early, bringing helium balloons and bags of ice to save us a trip to the store.

Alice Whitlock is great. She is quickly becoming my closest friend, even though we are an unlikely pair of opposites. She's a really talented clothing designer currently disguised as a personal shopper at Nordstrom. We met when she helped me pick out an outfit for a benefit that Edward and I had to attend a month ago, and just clicked almost immediately. We knew the first day we met that we'd be the best of friends. She and her husband, Jasper, moved here a little over a year ago from Texas. He found a job as a history professor at UCSD after completing his Ph.D., so they got married, packed up their bags and came west. They don't have kids yet, but Alice loves to practice by hanging out with Riley and me, so of course she wouldn't miss his birthday party. For my part, I enjoy living their kid-free adventures vicariously through her. It's a win-win friendship, definitely.

"Oh my god, Bella, this picture is so great! You got it framed! It looks so much better than the grainy one in the paper."

"What's that?" Esme had just set up the tablecloths outside and had come in to get some of the food, which I was pouring into bowls and displaying on platters in the kitchen.

"Bella, didn't you tell her? This gorgeous picture was on the front page of the newspaper last month. Full size!"

"It was Edward's 30 Under 30 thing. I don't know why they picked our picture. Must have been the dress!"

"Definitely the dress," Alice giggled.

"Ohhh, look at the two of you," Esme smiled and threw me a pointed look.

I nodded. "It was a good night…" _It ended up being a good night, anyway_.

…

I remembered that evening a month ago. I had been in a rush to get ready for the awards banquet. Riley had dumped his dinner all over the place so I had to spend extra time wiping up the floor and getting him cleaned up. Then as soon as I'd gotten him into a fresh change of clothes, he dirtied his diaper, so I had to change that, too, leaving me not much time to get myself fancied up. Forget the up-do Alice suggested for my hair! The doorbell rang and my panic increased. _I'll never be ready in time_.

"Can you get that? It's the babysitter," I yelled while trying to poke an earring through my ear. I grabbed my toothbrush and checked my profile in the mirror, trying not to drip any bubbly toothpaste onto my dress. _Well, the Spanx are helping a little, but I still don't like that pooch sticking out_. I frowned and turned to face myself, smacked my hands against my hips as if that would make them smaller, shook my head in resignation, and turned away to spit and rinse my mouth.

"Bell, we gotta go! You comin'?" Edward called from downstairs.

I threw the tube of lipstick into my clutch, checking in the mirror to be sure there was none on my teeth, and hurried downstairs with a huff.

"Wow, you look great. You ready?" His hand was already on the doorknob, anxious to leave, but I couldn't go without a hug and a kiss for Riley.

"I love you, Baby. Be good for Miss Sarah, ok?" I reluctantly let him go and began spewing out instructions for the babysitter. I'd written her a note, but I needed to be sure.

Five minutes later, Edward was losing patience. "Bella, she's got it. Let's go!"

I backed out the door, blowing kisses as Edward pulled me to his car. "Jeez, Bella, I can't be late to this. I'm a recipient for god's sake. Hurry up and get in!"

I sank into the seat. "Sorry!" He revved the engine to life before my door was even closed, and darted out of the driveway far too fast for my comfort. I felt so small in his little Beamer, zipping through traffic to try to make up lost time. My Lexus SUV feels a lot safer. "Oh, shoot, I forgot to…"

"WHAT?" he snapped.

"Nothing! I just forgot to tell Sarah that Riley's favorite jammies are in the dryer. Don't worry about it," I insisted, reaching for my phone. He rolled his eyes and cursed at a red light as I made the quick call.

"Ok." I sat back in my seat and tried to switch gears, baby mode into adult schmoozey mode, taking a deep breath to calm myself down. I looked over at my husband, jaw locked tight, knuckles gripped white on the steering wheel. "Nervous?" I asked, smoothing a short lock of hair behind his ear.

He glanced my way and shrugged, nonchalantly. "No, I just don't like being late." _So testy!_

"I'm sorry."

He nodded, curtly.

"So, can you tell me more about what you've done to earn this so that I can maintain a coherent conversation with these people?" I asked, half laughing.

He scoffed in disbelief, "You're asking me this now? We'll be there in 20 minutes."

"So give me the 20 minute version. I think I can keep up."

"Just tell them I fix broken hearts, and I do it better than anyone else." _Oh no he did not…_

"Right. Great." I over-pronounced my Ts. "_That's_ the image you want to convey? The hot shot young doctor with the _bimbo_ trophy wife? Thanks," I spat. As if it weren't bad enough already in these professional situations when people ask what I do. There are three typical reactions to a stay at home mom: 1. The conversation grinds to a halt because nothing I have to say can possibly hold any value to the person I'm talking to. 2. The person I'm speaking to instantly dumbs down the conversation and starts talking to me like a child. Or 3. On rare occasions, the person I'm speaking to will understand the value and temporary nature of child rearing and carry on their conversation with me as the intelligent adult that I am. Of course, I need to have something intelligent to say if option three is going to happen, which Edward was withholding from me tonight.

"No! It's just that you should have cared about this sometime _before_ we were in the car on the way there. It's a little more complex than I can explain to you right now." Great. Edward has chosen option number 2—the patronizing jerk!

"Edward, I've created media campaigns based on 15 minutes of information. Gimme your best shot. Bimbo trophy wife is not an image that's going to attract business to you or to Greene. That's just one step up from the very worst, the bachelor man-whore. No 60 year old CEO wants a 28 year old kid who was probably out partying last night to operate on his heart. A brilliant, dedicated family man who happens to be a 28 year old wunderkind—totally different story. They'll flock to you. The Union-Tribune is the sponsor of this event. It's going to be crawling with media, some of whom I probably know from my past life before I became _invisible_. Now give me five fricken' talking points about what you do so I can hold an intelligent conversation with them and spin this award in a way that makes you and the hospital look good."

"So, you're my PR person now? What about Heidi?"

"I won't step on her toes, but she works for the hospital, not for you. You want Intelligent PR Wife, or do you want Bimbo Trophy Wife? Your image. Your choice."

He started talking. _Smart boy_.

Once we got past our… misunderstanding in the car, we had a great time. We dined, we danced. Edward was the belle of the ball, among the older half of the crowd anyway. There was a definite age divide at the 30 Under 30 event. After a very brief acceptance speech where he humbly gave credit to his team—joking that it was a group effort but he was the only one who met the age requirement for this award—to his dad, whom he said inspired the search for this new technology, and, surprisingly, to me, he was on fire, talking up the newspaper execs and other sponsors of the event. We heard so many heart attack stories and Edward was right there to commiserate and offer advice, explaining how the new procedure he and his team had developed would help so many of those stories turn out better. I was able to fudge a little and say that I was a part time media consultant (the car ride and the event tonight counted as part time, right?) as well as a dedicated mom. That won Edward some brownie points, just as I predicted.

The dress Alice helped me choose worked, too. We were a bright blue sapphire amid a sea of black. Eyes were drawn to the handsome Dr. Cullen and his wife in the pretty blue dress all night. Cameras were, too. It was fun to be the center of attention, but it was also exhausting. Edward asked me to dance and it was, surprisingly, the most restful part of the event.

"I'm glad you're here tonight," he said. "I wouldn't want to come without you." He's an introvert at heart.

"You're doing great, Clarkie. They all love you. Thanking me in your speech was a nice touch."

"I didn't say it for them. I said it because it's true. I couldn't do anything nearly as well without you there, holding me up, taking good care of me."

I smiled, but I didn't believe him. I rested my cheek on his shoulder and he held me closer as we swayed.

"Could you believe that guy telling me about his…" We talked and laughed about the people we'd met and stories we'd heard that night. Some people have no shame. They'll tell a doctor _anything_.

After a few hours and a lot of hobnobbing, we were ready to go home. When we arrived**,** Edward offered his hand and helped pull me up out of the cavernous car, straight into his arms. "Thanks for tonight. For everything." He kissed me and pulled me closer, placing a hand behind my neck as he deepened his kisses.

"Hold on, Romeo. You need to take the babysitter home first."

He kissed me once more and backed away, taking a deep breath to clear his thoughts. "Right." He took Sarah home and I hurried upstairs to check on Riley and peel off my Spanx, excited to show him the pretty little under garments that matched my dress.

"That was quick. Eager to get home?" I teased when he returned.

"You look so beautiful tonight. I'm glad I made it back before you changed."

"Well, you're just in time." I turned my back to him and raised my hair so he could unzip my dress. He trailed his fingers along my neck and shoulders before grasping the zipper pull and inching it down, slowly loosening my gown. He gasped when it dropped to the floor, leaving me in a corset and panties the same color as the dress.

"Oh, Babe, did you get this for me?"

I smiled and nodded as he nuzzled my neck and traced his fingers along the lace that covered my bust, pulling me back to his chest. I leaned my head back on his shoulder and raised an arm up and around his neck. I turned to face him and nudged the jacket off his shoulders, pushing him toward his closet as I picked my dress up off the floor and draped it over the edge of the bathtub so we wouldn't step on it. He returned from the closet, tie loosened and working to unbutton his cuffs. I started on the buttons down his front, revealing a few inches more of his toned chest with each one I opened. I turned up his collar and slid his shirt off, leaving the blue tie hanging loosely around his neck. When he questioned this, I shrugged and said, "We match."

I grabbed the tie and dragged him toward the bedroom as he worked to open his belt and lower his fly. He stumbled a little, trying to walk and take his pants off at the same time. He rested his hand on the back of the couch for balance as we passed through our sitting room, hopping on one foot as he worked the slacks over the other one. I pulled him the rest of the way by his silk leash with the pants pooled around one ankleand pushed him onto the bed crouching down to free his other foot. Kneeling on the floor between his knees as he sat on the edge of the bed and leaned back on his hands, I slowly ran my fingers up his thighs, his hips, his abs, his chest, savoring the feel of his toned muscles, and finally landing on his shoulders. I had to lean into him a bit to reach that high, and he caught his breath when my abdomen brushed against the growing bulge in his boxer briefs. After massaging his shoulders a few times, I smoothed my flat hands, one after the other down the length of his tie, from knot to point, petting the smooth silk as I complimented him.

"Baby, do you have any idea how incredibly sexy you are?" I asked him. He smiled, eyes closed. "No one could take their eyes off of you tonight. The brilliant, gorgeous, confident young doctor who saves lives every day. All those women wanted you. All those men wanted to be you. And they didn't even know about this." I continued to slide my hand down beyond the bottom of his tie, coming to rest on his erection. With a couple of firm passes up and down his length, I hooked my fingers into the waistband of his shorts and pulled them off, freeing his penis with a slight bounce, which made me giggle. I kissed my way up his inner thighs and licked him from base to tip.

"Mmmm…" he hummed and dropped his head back.

I wrapped my lips around the head of his cock and swirled my tongue around before plunging him deep into my mouth. I wrapped my fingers around the base of his shaft, pumping to the same rhythm.

"Oh, Bell… OH, my god… Mmmm…" He raked his fingers through my hair as I sped up. I reached down and cupped his balls, giving him a few more urgent passes and a strong suck to his head before releasing him from my lips and climbing on top of his body. I loved giving him pleasure, but I needed more, desperately.

I gripped his shoulders. He wrapped his arms around my waist and nuzzled my chest. I could feel his hot breath in my cleavage. He rolled us over and crashed his mouth into mine, kissing, sucking, licking, nipping. Quickly. Fervently. He sat up, straddling me, and unhooked the corset I still wore—five little hooks down the front—until it popped open and I sprung free from its constriction. He grinned and backed off the bed, sliding my panties off as he did. Then he stood, his cock sticking out and pointing right at me, and loosened the tie from around his neck, sliding it off seductively. I swallowed the excess drool that was forming in my mouth and kicked my way to the center of our California King. Edward pushed the duvet to the foot of the bed before crawling his way toward me. He hovered over my body, resting on his elbows and placing soft kisses on my face in between his words.

"You. Are so. Beautiful. Ungh. (I had lifted my pelvis, making contact with his.) And witty. And smart. And perfect." He smiled. "I was afraid to leave your side tonight, lest someone sweep you away from me. He ran his knuckles along my cheek and lifted my chin to align our lips for a deep, passionate kiss. He moved his hand to my breast and squeezed it gently, passing his thumb over the nipple and making me squirm as our tongues danced. He moved down to suckle first one and then the other and I tangled my fingers in his hair, pulling him closer as he made me feel so good. He lifted back up, gazing into my eyes as we aligned our hips and he slowly pushed inside me.

I flinched and sucked in a breath with a hiss.

He stopped immediately. "Still?" he asked, frustrated. "Are you ok?"

I nodded. "Just give me a sec. Wait right there." I squeezed my eyes shut and took a deep breath. Edward shook his head and rolled off me. "Where is it?"

"In the drawer." I answered, helpful and apologetic.

He shook the tube and squeezed some lubricant onto his fingers with a gurgling fart sound—very romantic. Snapping the lid shut, Edward rolled back over to me and applied the gel between my legs. "Can't Gerandy do something to fix this?" he asked, annoyed at my OB/GYN.

"He said it just takes time."

"How much time for christ sakes? It's been almost two years."

I shrugged my shoulders and furrowed my brow. "Sorry… It's not as bad as it used to be."

He softened, seeing that I was upset. "Well, that's good. But I don't want it to hurt you at all, Babe." He gave me a tender kiss and then, ever the curious researcher, Edward started exploring with his fingers. Some of it was just for me, making me squirm and clench my legs together with a chuckle. And some of it was to quell his desire to fix me. With a fingertip inside me and his thumb on the outside rim of my opening, Edward felt around. "Ah, here it is. Does that hurt?" he ran his fingers over what must have been the scar tissue that had formed down there. I tried not to reveal any pain, but a tiny grunt managed to escape. "Jeez, what kind of sloppy-ass sutures did he give you?"

"Edward?"

"I think this can be fixed. We just need to…"

"Edward! Stop! It's fine. Childbirth was the part that hurt. This is just a little scar, a little ache. It's no big deal. Come on," I begged. I reached down and stroked him, trying to reignite the fire we'd had just moments before.

"I don't want to hurt you."

"Shh… You won't. The lube makes it all better, so just…" I pulled him over onto me. He moved his fingers to my clit, but I moved his hand away and placed it on my breast. "Just love me." I didn't want an orgasm—too much work. My mind wasn't in the right place for that at the moment. I just wanted to feel him on top of me and inside of me, I wanted him to kiss me and love me and cherish me, so I put my hands on his ass and pulled him into me, slowly, gently. After two slow and careful thrusts in and out, I declared myself to be ok and we gradually sped up, reaching full speed, full power, full heat after just a few moments. As we made love, I remembered how attractive he'd looked at the party, dressed up and so handsome in a suit and tie; happy and confident, drinking in the crowd's adulation; talking animatedly to people whom he held in rapt attention; pulling me in close to his body as we danced, showing everyone that he was taken—he was mine. He's so sexy, and he's all mine.

"Oh, Superman," I sighed, using the other half of his pet name. He came soon thereafter, bursting with pleasure and a curse, just as I had started to feel the lubricant dissipating and a hint of soreness threatening to return. Perfect timing. And a perfect end to our magical night at the ball

When I awoke, he was gone. His side of the bed was cold. "Running," was all that the yellow sticky note on the kitchen table said. He's training for a marathon, and I knew that I wouldn't see him until lunchtime. I sighed and placed a bowl of yogurt on Riley's high chair tray. "It's just you and me today, kiddo. Wanna go to church?"

"See Miss Becca?"

"Yes, you can go to the nursery and see Miss Rebecca. Sounds fun, huh?" He clapped his hands and squealed, eager to see his Sunday school teacher.

The paper printed a huge picture of Edward and me that Sunday, front and center on the special section they printed about the event and all of the recipients. In it, we were on the dance floor, both of our heads tipped back and laughing at something one of us had said. We looked young, happy, and beautiful—the perfect image of the 30 Under 30 award. I framed that picture and put it on our bookshelf as a reminder that we do have good times together. Times I try to remember when I'm feeling lonely or unappreciated.

…

I set the picture back on the shelf and looked at Esme. "We do have some good times." _Just not enough_, I thought, realizing that that night a month ago had been the last time we'd made love or really talked or smiled much.

"Of course you do. And you'll have many more." She handed me a plastic toolbox full of sandwiches and the tray from it full of mixed nuts with some of Riley's plastic toy bolts scattered on top.

"Oh my gosh, Bella. Nuts and bolts? That is too cute," Alice exclaimed as we all headed outside, arms laden with party food.

Riley's party was a big hit among the two year old crowd and their parents. I had gathered lots of ideas on a web site called "birthday party ideas" to plan the coolest truck party ever. It was great timing, since our landscaping and future pool are currently under construction. From the moment Riley's friends donned their plastic hard hats and orange vests and stepped inside the yellow construction zone tape in the backyard, they had a blast. Too young for organized games, our 14 little guests kept busy digging for treasures in the dirt with toy trucks, stacking cardboard boxes and knocking them down, and rolling toy trucks through paint and over paper to draw with the tire treads. All was great fun. The high point was when our landscapers parked one of their real backhoes and a giant pile of dirt in our cul-de-sac and let the children take turns sitting with the driver and working the arm and bucket. That brought squeals of delight from the short people and high praise from their parents.

"Bella, this party is amazing." I approached a group of four or five moms from Riley's playgroup.

"Is that truck in the dining room really made of cake?" Kim wondered.

I nodded.

"This is no Chuck E. Cheese. Will you plan Emma's next birthday in September? Please?" she begged.

"Seriously, Bella, you could start a business doing this!" Emily suggested.

"It's true," my mother-in-law agreed as she walked past, "You're very talented. You'd be great."

_Hmmm_… I guess it's something to think about.

"I think Connor peed himself when he saw the backhoe. And my husband almost had a heart attack. Good thing there's a doctor in the house." Jessica is always so crass.

"There are two, actually. Edward's father is a heart surgeon up in Seattle."

"Oh, like father like son, huh? Which one's his dad?" Claire asked, looking around.

"Um…" I scanned the crowd for Carlisle.

"Speaking of Edward, how did you ever get him to dress up as a construction foreman? He looks really hot in flannel and scruff. And that toolbelt!" She sucked in a breath. "Goes great with the sex hair." I gasped in shock and looked at Jessica in disbelief. She smirked. "Really, Bella, it's unfair to keep all those looks to himself. He needs to spread some of them around to the other men."

I shook my head in disbelief and then assessed my husband across the yard. She was right, actually. He did look good. Really good. He was friendly and confident, laughing and talking to some of the other dads. That's the man I fell in love with. The one I married. It seems that lately all I've seen is the stressed-out, serious Edward.

"There's at least one other guy here who caught some." Claire cut in. "Did you see the blonde over there talking to that glamazon? Over there where the kids are stacking the boxes." She pointed him out.

"Yeah, the middle aged guy? Bella, who is that?"

I laughed again, "Oh, there he is!" _Talking to Leah Clearwater—great! Make that three doctors in the house._ "THAT is Edward's father. And the lady over there by the cooler is his mom."

"Wow, what a gene pool. I can see why Edward is so good looking." Claire enthused, raising my hackles.

"No way, they don't look old enough! He must be adopted or something." Emily seemed to be the most practical member of the group. I think she was an engineer before staying home with her kids.

"No, they're around 60. Edward has an older brother, too."

"You're kidding!"

"Well, if Dr. Cullen Sr. is any indication, Edward is going to age _very_ nicely." I felt like throttling Claire. Jessica, I expected this from, but Claire surprised me.

"And think of little Riley! He's destined to be quite a looker, too. I bet all these little girls will be hanging around your house again in 10 or 15 years." Kim added. She seems to be the most normal of the playgroup moms. I was surprised that she joined in on this conversation.

"Oh my gosh. I don't even want to think about that. He's only two!" I lamented.

"So, if Edward is a DILF, does that make Grandpa Cullen a GILF?"

"You guys, jeez…" I was getting really uncomfortable hearing all these women talk about my husband and my father-in-law that way.

"Really! How can you sit across from them at the dinner table and maintain a coherent conversation?" Claire prodded.

"Well, they're even more beautiful on the inside. My mother-in-law, too. The Cullens are wonderful people. I'm so lucky to have married into their family."

"Lucky is right. You'd better hold on to that boy tight!" I couldn't believe Jessica said that. Was that a threat?

"Hi girls," Alice greeted as she approached, "Are we all having fun?"

"We're just admiring the scenery."

"Oh, you've seen the Cullen boys, huh? I know what you mean."

"Alice, not you, too!"

"Sorry, Bella. Listen, ladies, if you're not busy Tuesday night, get the guys to watch the kids and please come to my Passionista party. I don't know if you've ever been to one, but they are so much fun! Lots of toys for us girls to play with." She handed out postcards. "Bring a friend! Oh look, there's Esme, Riley's grandma."

Esme approached Carlisle, handing him a bottle of water and joining the conversation with Leah. She'd already taken the lid off for him.

"Watch them, they're insatiable," Alice said. "I bet they'll have their hands on each other within five seconds."

I laughed. She's so right.

"Five… four… three... two…"

Carlisle pulled Esme in for a kiss and draped his arm around her shoulders as he enjoyed his drink.

"See? What'd I tell you? They can't keep their hands off each other. It's so cute."

"If I had a husband who looked like that, I'd be all over him, too." Jessica again. I swear, she has no shame.

I'd had enough of that conversation and checked my watch. "Ok… Time for cake and presents!" I waved Edward over and asked him to gather everyone around while I brought the cake out. Then I grabbed his hand and tipped my chin up for a kiss. He obliged with a knowing smirk. _He's mine… Back off, girls_.

The party was over. The presents were unwrapped. The backhoe had been loaded onto its trailer and hauled away. The cake, hard as it was to destroy my sculpture, was cut and eaten. Riley had crashed hard for his nap after all the excitement that morning, and we four adults were cleaning up the mess. As Esme and I picked up wrapping paper scraps, paper napkins, popped balloons, and other trash from the yard I asked, "How do you stand it, Esme? I couldn't believe how my friends were staring at Edward and Carlisle. And the things they were saying about them, right in front of me. It was appalling!"

"I know. I thought I'd see that less over time, but Carlisle's just improved with age, and now he's seen as distinguished and successful and rich, which makes it even worse. You may be in for the same ride, Honey!" she sighed, "But as hard as it is for us, it's an even worse burden on the guys. They have to live with it every day—people not taking them seriously, women staring but not listening, men reacting with aggression or competitiveness. I think that's why they work so hard to be the best at what they do—to put the focus on their accomplishments instead of their looks."

"Maybe so. It's just so disappointing to see my friends behaving this way. Most of them are married women—with children—and they were going on an on about how hot our husbands are. Jessica even called Edward a DILF right to my face, for crying out loud!"

"I've heard that before, but I don't know what it stands for."

"Oh my gosh, Esme, it means Dad I'd Like to F-."

She laughed. "That is blatant, isn't it? Maybe we can go to this party on Tuesday and have a little fun with them."

"You mean you're ok with them talking about Carlisle like that?"

"No, Bella, of course not, but it is something I've learned how to live with. All the ogling and lusty comments and the outright propositions used to make me feel really insecure and jealous, but Carlisle said something one time that made me feel a lot better. I think it's how he deals with it himself. I told him how jealous I was of all those women looking at him and wanting him all the time. I told him how insecure it made me feel that even though I trusted him, I knew he had opportunity thrown at him constantly. He thanked me for loving him and told me not to worry, because they don't really want HIM at all, they just like the packaging. He told me that I am the ONLY one who truly knows him or wants him for what he is on the inside, which is the only part that really matters. And then his ego kicked in and he said that I get the pretty package as an extra bonus."

I giggled. "That's so sweet. He's really a wonderful man, isn't he?"

"He is… I'm so proud that Edward has turned out to be so much like him."

_Hmm_… I wasn't sure I agreed with her, but I couldn't say anything out loud. I couldn't imagine Edward saying something so sweet just to reassure me. It would be more his style to dismiss my fears with a comment like, "Don't be ridiculous, Bella."

Carlisle and Esme offered to watch Riley that night so Edward and I could go out alone for the evening. I hated to turn down a rare opportunity like that, but I was so tired that I just wanted to turn in early. I needed sleep. "Can we take a rain check and go later in the week?" I asked.

"I can't stay out late on a work night. If you want to do this let's just go now," Edward whined. _Like it's such a chore to go out with me_.

"We don't have to go out late. I could meet you near the hospital."

"Listen, we'll work something out before it's time for us to go home, ok?" Esme, interjected, always the peacemaker. "Edward, I think your dad is looking for someone to play chess with. I have some reading to catch up on for work, so why don't you go play? And Bella was up very late working on her beautiful cake. She really needs to get some rest. Good night, Honey." She hugged me and gave me a kiss on the cheek. "You're an amazing mom, you know that?"

I smiled.

"Great party, Bell. Everybody loved it. And that cake was amazing." Edward kissed me on the forehead.

"Thanks. Good night."

He gave me a quick kiss and said, "'Night. I'll be up later." I was asleep long before he got there.

* * *

A/N

Want to know how Bella met Alice? Check the outtake I posted today.

Besotted helps in many, many ways. I owe her many, many thanks!

Thanks for reading. Please let me know what you think.

JEN

6,029 words

Twitter: JenEsmeFF


	6. Chapter5, Esme: Carlisle's Birthday

**The Fantasy Basket**

**By JenEsme**

**Inspired by Stephenie Meyers' Twilight series. No infringement intended.**

**Chapter 5—Esme: Carlisle's Birthday**

**Posted May 16, 2012**

**This is for grown-ups only!**

August 1990

Since the class reunion, things were getting better between Carlisle and me. "Saving the Marriage" became my latest project, and I threw myself into it, researching all the relationship books I could find and implementing every love-improvement technique that I thought would help. I read somewhere that modeling a strong, happy marriage for your kids is the best gift you can ever give them, so I stopped feeling guilty for wanting some of Carlisle's time and attention for myself. It was a relief to know that my husband was as committed to improving our marriage as I was, and we were able to agree to some changes.

First, we got our priorities in order. We reaffirmed the "no dumping" rule that we had established on our honeymoon, essentially taking separation or divorce out of our vocabulary and out of the realm of consideration. We agreed to put each other first, kids second, job and house after that. I realized that Carlisle wouldn't be able to radically reduce his hours at the hospital, and I didn't expect him to, but he agreed to make more effort to be home and to turn his beeper off when he could.

We made an effort to pay more attention to each other, give compliments and show affection. We did nice things to help each other out and left notes and little gifts to surprise each other. He blocked out time in his planner at the office for family events, the boys' ball games, and some time just for the two of us. I met him for lunch once a week and started taking cooking classes to try to better reach his heart through his stomach. Best of all, we committed to going out on regular date nights every other week, limiting talk of work and kids to the first 15 minutes so we could spend most of our alone-time getting reacquainted. Carlisle made an effort to come home earlier and I made an effort to come to bed earlier, where we had a lot of great conversations before falling asleep. He still did things that bothered me or hurt my feelings on occasion, and I'm sure I did things that irked him, too, but we were both making the choice every day to become best friends again, to fall back in love, and to stay there for good. Some days were harder than others, but our relationship was definitely improving—in all areas but one.

We had only made love a handful of times in the three months since my class reunion. We were both so busy and tired that most of the time we didn't even think about it. Sleep seemed more important. And both of us were pretty shy and inexperienced in the bedroom so we didn't have ravenous sexual appetites. He'd been raised in a very strict religious family and taught that sex for anything but procreation was sinful and dirty. I had lost my parents very young and was raised by my grandmother, who avoided uncomfortable conversations about sex entirely, advising me only to be good and save myself for marriage.

We met young—I was a junior in high school visiting my sick grandmother in the hospital. He was a freshman in college working there part time between pre-med classes. We fell in love and eventually gave our virginity to each other, so everything we knew about sex (which wasn't much), we learned together. My relationship improvement research included some eye-popping information about lovemaking. Some things I had heard of but never dreamed of trying, and other things I'd never imagined. Romance novels were another source of explicit jaw-dropping descriptions of love and romance. I wondered if we could make things more exciting and romantic after marriage and kids. The words of my cheerleader nemesis at the class reunion still stung, and I was determined to improve my physical relationship with Carlisle. To be more for him.

One night I went up to bed early after reading a titillating story in which a girl taught her friend how to give a blow job. I was embarrassed to read it, but also kind of excited to learn a new technique, and I wanted to try it out. I'd rarely done that on Carlisle in the past. I just didn't know what I was doing, and neither of us liked it that much. My jaw would get so sore and he seemed to like it ok, but he never climaxed until we switched to my hand, or worse, his own. Carlisle was surprised that night when I wanted to try it again. Pleasantly surprised, I'm happy to say! I went down on him in a whole new way, lubricating my hand first and pumping him with it where my mouth didn't reach, swirling my tongue around his tip with each pull, massaging his balls with my other hand. I was so pleased when he said he was about to come. _I'm doing this better,_ I thought. His eyes widened when he realized that I wasn't moving off of him. I think that thought alone excited him enough to push him over the edge. I took his semen into my mouth. It made me feel so sexy. I didn't mind having it in my mouth, but swallowing it was gross. I had to try a few times and it made me gag.

"Sorry," I apologized. I wanted to do this right for him, to make it great.

"What are you sorry for? That was fantastic. It's never felt like that before. I thought I didn't like blow jobs. But, oh, Ezzy, that was spectacular. Thank you."

I was so happy to have pleased him and proud to have done a good job, even if my first attempt at swallowing hadn't gone so well. But then I was deeply saddened to realize that for all these years we'd been missing out on something that brought him so much pleasure. The man had never liked blow jobs... unbelievable! But he'd never liked them because I had never given him one worth liking. I felt so guilty and frustrated at my lack of experience. As cruel and hurtful as Maria's words had been, they held a kernel of truth. Carlisle did deserve more than I'd been giving him. Not because I didn't want to, but because I didn't know how. I'd never slept around and learned things from different men. I didn't share private details of my sex life with my friends, so I didn't learn things from them. That left me with books. I started buying Cosmo at the grocery store. I got stacks of books from the library and the bookstore, conquering my fear of embarrassment and shame when I checked them out at the counter. I read and I learned. I learned a lot.

One night as we were going to sleep, I asked Carlisle, "Do you have any fantasies? Is there anything we've never done that you'd like to try?" He paused for a long time. I could tell there was something he wanted to say, but was too embarrassed to admit it. "Tell me," I urged.

"Uhm… It might be fun to watch someone else having sex and see what they do." He took a deep breath, nervous, I could tell. "And maybe have them watch us, too. I don't think I could actually go through with that, though." He shook his head repeatedly.

_So_, I thought, _my preacher boy is a voyeur_. Or maybe he was just as curious to learn new things as I was.

"Maybe we could rent a porno movie sometime and watch people that way. We've got the VCR in here."

He nodded. "That's a good idea. And maybe we could make a video of ourselves doing it sometime. That might be kind of like having someone watch us. And then we could watch it ourselves and have sex while we watched ourselves having sex."

I took a deep breath and snorted out a nervous laugh. "Carlisle!" I giggled, "I guess we could do that, but we'd have to erase it right away, ok? If the kids ever found it…"

"Oh my gosh…" he laughed.

My husband's birthday was coming up, and I wanted to give him something in the bedroom as a special gift, maybe play out that fantasy that he'd talked about. I decided to rent a XXX movie for his birthday and to get some items to play with in bed. I had seen an adult bookstore on my way to the landfill when I dropped off cans for recycling, so I headed over there after dropping the boys off at school one day. I hoped that it wouldn't be busy on a Monday morning at 10:00 am. I parked in back where no one would see my car, waiting nervously for about 20 minutes before I got the guts to go inside. There was a young guy inside sweeping the floor, covered in tattoos. A grizzly older man, probably about 50, sat behind the checkout counter. I was glad that neither of them greeted me as I headed as far away from them as I could get.

I looked at the items on the shelves and read the labels with a morbid curiosity. Cock rings, butt beads, nipple clamps, double dildos (_huh?_) and vibrators in every size, shape, and color imaginable. Some were molded from actual porn stars' penises. (Hmm, I guess Carlisle is pretty well endowed. I'd never seen another man's and had always wondered how he measured up.) Others looked way too large to be real. How could that ever fit? Only during childbirth had I ever stretched out that wide. It must be a gag gift. I selected something more realistic with a name similar to one I'd heard the characters on a cable TV show talking about. Hot pink. There were racks of magazines and videos with naked women spreading themselves wide for the world to see. _Sad_. There were skimpy outfits and naughty underwear and a whole rack of different kinds of lubricant. I was overwhelmed and more than a little freaked out at all this stuff. I hadn't picked out anything except my vibrator, and was going to just leave it and go, but I convinced myself that since I had gotten up the nerve to come in here, I'd better well leave with something for Carlisle.

Up in the front of the shop, between the cashier and the door (an area I had been avoiding) there was a shelf unit full of things that seemed more my speed. Little party favors and naughty gifts, (A penis shaped lollipop? Lovely!) boxed sets of candles and lubricants, how-to books and sexy card games. I picked up some flavored lubricant, a card game, and a candle whose wax doubles as massage oil when it's melted. Then I saw something I wanted, but was too embarrassed to pick up: "Beginner's Bondage Set." It contained a blindfold and satin restraints for wrists and feet.

Through my reading I'd learned that some people, typically high-powered men who make big decisions every day and often lead many people, tend to enjoy bondage and submission because it lets them relinquish control for awhile. That sounded like Carlisle. He literally held peoples lives in his hands every day, and now that he was working his way up into management at the hospital, he had to oversee the budget and all the people who worked for him, making lots of tough decisions. Would he like to let go of that control for a night and let me be the boss? _Hmm… it's worth a try_. I put the box in my basket and moved to the counter. This was the difficult part for me—facing the cashier—and I'm sure my face was red as a beet.

"A lot of people who get the bondage set also get this silk flogger. It's like a big tassel, very gentle," he added, running his fingers through it. "Would you like to add that?"

"Um… No thanks." I didn't think we were ready for something like that. Too scary. I was nervous and my mouth started rattling things off to the man behind the counter. I told this stranger in a porn shop how it was my husband's birthday and we'd been married for 16 years but never tried anything like this and I'd really wanted to get him a movie, but was too overwhelmed with how many there were to pick one out…

"Oh, I can help you with that. What do you guys like?"

"Uh… I don't know. We've never seen one before."

He was shocked. "Really? Well, the ladies tend to like the ones with a little more story to them, like we have on this wall over here."

I saw some videos that were take-offs on a popular series of novels I enjoyed reading, so I grabbed one of those, thinking that it would be like the book, just with the sex scenes included. With that, I was ready to go. I couldn't believe I did it!

The next morning I got up early to serve my husband breakfast in bed. I awakened HIM with a kiss for once. "Good morning, Sunshine! Happy 41!"

"Argh! Am I really that old? How did that happen? Can I just stay forty forever?"

"Time flies, huh? Don't worry, you're even cuter now than you were at 19, Mister!"

"Yeah, right!"

"Really! You're not that scrawny little boy anymore." I moved my eyes up and down his body, lingering on his perfectly toned chest, and felt my pulse race.

He smiled seductively and took a bite of his cheese-filled strawberry blintz. "Mmmm… this is delicious, Es. Thank you."

"You're welcome, Sweetheart."

"Did you get up early just for me?"

I nodded.

"Wow, you must love me or something."

I laughed. "Or something! Do you have time for lunch today? I could come and meet you."

"No, it's Tuesday. It's hard enough to squeeze in a little thing like patient care on meeting days." He rolled his eyes. "I'll have to grab something quick from the cafeteria. Man, I hate Tuesdays."

"Well, I hope this one is better than most." I wished him with a kiss to the temple.

"It is so far."

"Here, open your presents before the boys get up," I urged, sitting at the foot of the bed. "This one is for this morning, and that bag has something for later." He opened the designer shirt and tie I'd bought. "I figured that since you're a big executive now, you'll have to start dressing the part."

"This is really nice. Thanks."

"The other one is a little more… personal."

"Really, what is it?"

"Open it!" I looked over my shoulder to ensure the door was closed. I was so nervous about how he would react.

Carlisle pulled the tissue paper from the top of the gift bag and looked inside. His eyebrows lifted up high as he pulled out the video tape. "Where did you get this stuff?"

I told him the story of my adventure at the adult book store. He cracked up. "You really sat in the car for 20 minutes?"

"Hey, it was creepy! I felt like such a pervert! I was praying that no one noticed the Student of the Month stickers on my car or my 'I'm Proud of my Cub Scouts' license plate frame!"

He laughed.

"We have to return the movie tomorrow, so we'll have to watch it tonight, ok Birthday Boy?"

He chuckled nervously. "I'm looking forward to it."

"Me, too."

That evening, the boys helped me make Carlisle's favorite dinner and a birthday cake. His parents came over to help him celebrate. As we ate, opened presents, and played a board game the boys had given Carlisle, we kept catching each others' eye, eager for our own little party to start. It was torture. The anticipation was killing us both. We hadn't felt this kind of passion for each other in years. We were able to steal one private moment during the evening. The boys were entertaining their grandparents with the latest songs they'd learned on the piano so Carlisle followed me to the kitchen, under the guise of helping me clear away the cake plates. As soon as the kitchen door, which was usually left open, swung shut, he had me backed upagainst the pantry door, his fingers buried in my hair, and his lips attached to my mouth. I nearly dropped the plates with the speed of his attack.

"Make them leave!" he pleaded.

"Anxious for your present, Sweetheart?" I teased, palming his crotch.

"Mmmm… please!" Suddenly, he grabbed the dishes, yanked open the dishwasher door, and bent over to load the plates and forks, trying to hide the tent in his pants… _Thank goodness for the squeaky door_. His mother entered with more dishes, shooting me a condescending look.

"Car, you shouldn't have to do housework. Especially on your birthday, Darling."

"It's ok, Mother. My beautiful wife has spoiled me with her cooking all day long." He stood, wrapped his arms around me, and gave me kiss on the cheek. "She deserves a little help."

He was so sweet to defend me, but his old-school mother was unimpressed, raising her eyebrows with a "hmph!" and looking away to avoid witnessing our embrace before handing me her dirty dishes.

"Father and I need to get going soon."

"I'll see you out, Mother. I'm so glad you could come…" He put his arm around her shoulders and led her out of the kitchen, glancing back at me with an apologetic look and a wink.

After finally waving goodbye to his folks and tucking the boys in, we hurried to our bedroom, locked the door behind us, and got ready for bed, nervous and excited about our movie date.

"What else is in here, Es?" Carlisle dug through the gift bag while he waited for me.

I heard a gasp as I approached the bed, all washed and brushed and wearing a slinky little nightie I'd found at Sears. "Bondage?"

"I just thought it might be fun to try—nothing severe—just trust me, ok? I think you'll like being able to let go of all that control that keeps you wound up so tightly all the time."

He looked worried.

I laughed. "The guy at the store wanted to sell me a flogger, but I said no way."

"A what?"

"A flogger."

"Like a medieval torture device?"

"Yes, but this one was silk—kind of like this," I flipped the tassel tie back on the bedroom curtains, "so it wouldn't hurt anyone."

"Hmmm," he grunted. He looked a little freaked out.

"Sweetheart, I didn't buy it. I don't want to hit you."

"You just want to tie me up and… what?"

"And make you feel good." I ran my finger up his bare arm, running it back and forth over the curve of his bicep, enjoying the feel of velvety-soft skin over hard muscle, "Run a silk scarf over your body, or a feather, or my tongue… If you're afraid, you can tie me up instead. Or we don't have to use it at all. It's ok."

"Hmmm…"

"I got something for myself, too," I admitted, bashfully, looking up under my eyelashes at him.

"What, a studded collar?"

I rolled my eyes at him, opened the drawer of my nightstand, and brought out the hot pink vibrator." His eyes grew wide. "Have you used that?"

"No, I wanted to wait for you."

He smiled.

"So, what would you like to play with tonight, Birthday Boy?"

"The movie has to go back tomorrow, right?"

"Mmm hmm."

"We'd better do that, then," and he slid the tape into the VCR.

We sat cross legged on the bed, hand in hand, curious about what we were in for, and began to watch. It certainly wasn't a movie version of the book I'd read with sex scenes added in. No, it was pretty much JUST the sex scenes. I doubt the director had even read the book, because the two minutes of horribly acted dialog were filled with inaccuracies. _That's lame!_

We watched the first scene, shocked and horrified but unable to tear our eyes away. There was a woman with not one but two men. They kept slapping her butt and she appeared to be really out of it—I'm sure she was stoned. It was kind of pathetic, but I'm sure that not even a porn star would want to be coherent for the ways those men violated her. It was disturbing. They had sex in every fathomable combination, and one that I had never imagined.

"What are they doing?" I wondered.

"I think they're both in her."

They'd already shown one man in front and one in back. That was disturbing enough, but this looked different.

"Huh?" I cocked my head to the side, trying to figure it out.

"Es, they both have their dicks in the same hole."

I gasped and covered my mouth with my hand. _Oh my god, is that even possible? Apparently so. Ick._ We were both very uncomfortable and were about to turn the movie off when thankfully they finished—both men ejaculating on her face and chest—and it switched to a different scene with two people, doing normal sexual things. And this one was really, really sexy.

"I like this girl, Es." Carlisle panted into my ear. "She looks like you." I gave him a questioning look. "Not her face, her body. She's petite and small like you." His hand caressed my inner thigh, "That's what I like. The other girl was too big and fake looking. This one reminds me of you."

I was thrilled. _He LIKES my small chest?_ I'd never been more thankful than that moment that he'd never been with another woman. _He really is all mine. Hallelujah!_

I shifted position and slid my tiny lace panties off. He followed suit, lifting his hips and pulling off his underwear. Carlisle sat propped up against the headboard and I moved to sit in front of him between his legs, gripping his thighs as he kissed me everywhere he could reach—my neck, my shoulders, my head—and ran his hands all over me. He lifted my nightgown over my head and kneaded my breasts, rolling my erect nipples between his fingers until I gasped. We were both incredibly turned on as we watched the couple on the screen. They used their hands, their tongues, their lips, his cock in so many ways…

"Oh Baby, we should try it that way sometime." Carlisle groaned. Then he froze and gasped. "Sorry… I'm sorry!"

I grabbed his hands and turned to face him. "It's ok. You can call me that now."

"Really?" He was surprised and thrilled. We'd had a pregnancy scare when I was in college and I had told him to _never_ say "baby" during sex again, because it made me think we were asking for one. I guess I was a little superstitious… scared stupid, I suppose!

"Carlisle, we've had our babies. And you've had your vasectomy, so I think we're safe now."

"Oh BABY!" he practically yelled. He pushed me down on the bed and was inside me within seconds. It was so exciting to have sex while we watched and listened to the couple on the screen. Carlisle was insatiable, and I'd never been more aroused. He just kept going and going and going. He pinned me to the bed in missionary, pounded into me doggie style, then rolled over with me on top of him riding him until I came. From there, I flung my leg over him and swiveled around to try that new position from the movie as we continued to watch. It was raw, hot, wet, and absolutely wonderful. The video moved on to a third scene and the new couple wasn't as exciting to us—bleach blonde, big implants, tattoos—but at that point we weren't really watching. We were so into each other, drenched in sweat and other fluids as we thrust into each other again and again, hands and mouths attacking each other.

"Oh Baby… Baby… Baby… Baby!" Carlisle cried out as he finally came. He really likes calling me that. I should have let him sooner.

I grabbed tissues as he grabbed the remote and clicked off the movie. I turned to face him again, and we clung to each other, silent and shaking, until we caught our breath. We looked at each other, smiled, and slowly began to laugh.

"So, I take it you liked the movie?" I asked.

"Oh Baby, thank you. So much."

"Happy birthday, Sweetheart."

Our relationship was improving, both emotionally and physically, but it took a lot of conscious effort from both of us. Not everything went smoothly. We had plenty of setbacks. As hard as we were trying, Carlisle and I were sometimes on a completely different page from one another. One Saturday afternoon three weeks after Carlisle's birthday, (i.e., three weeks since we'd last done anything physical beyond spooning,) we found ourselves alone in the house. Emmett was at football practice. Edward was at a friend's. Time alone with Carlisle was a rare treat, and I wanted to take full advantage of it. I was eager to practice my new blow job skills again, so I asked Carlisle to join me in the bedroom, but he turned me down. He had a different plan for that afternoon—a haircut! Yes, a HAIRCUT! I was angry and I was hurt, and I was horny! Opportunities like this didn't come along very often. The kids were ALWAYS around. After he left for his STUPID HAIRCUT, I took the time alone to use my new vibrator and give MYSELF an orgasm—_forget sharing that first time with him!_

The vibrator was big and noisy and fast. I was a little scared to use it, so I tried just the clitoral stimulator portion first. It vibrated so quickly that I fantasized it was the lightning-fast fingers of the sexy vampire in a book I'd been reading. Wow! I came fast and intense, even on the slowest setting. I wanted more, so I put some lube on the part that looked like a big, hot pink penis. I slid it between my legs, and pressed the buttons to turn it on for dual stimulation, and screamed out loud.

"Ohhhhhhhhh…" The sensation overwhelmed me. I came again, actually more than once. It felt incredible, but as good as it made me feel, in a way it was unfulfilling…disappointing. Physically nice but emotionally empty. It just wasn't the same without my real man attached. I craved his weight, his warmth, his kiss, his touch, his words. But I didn't have them. I didn't have him. He had to get a haircut because that's what he _planned_ to do this afternoon. It was frustrating. No, it was infuriating. Carlisle was so dang structured. Everything planned and scheduled. No spontaneity.

A/N

Let's just pretend that a book about vampires with fast fingers was around in 1990. Esme thanks you for this bit of artistic license. Hee hee.

Can you find my homage to a classic Twific in this chapter? It was my first.

There actually are XXX movies based on the 4 Twilight tomes. Should I admit that I know that? All in the name of _research_—yeah, that's right! Lol! The whole video description (including disgusting double entry) in this chapter is straight from the XXX Eclipse DVD. They really could have done a lot—ahem, tent scene?—but I was sorely disappointed.

Besotted kindly suggests what to admit and what to leave out of TFB. Thanks!

Thanks for all the recommendations and reviews. I'm thrilled that The Fantasy Basket is being talked about throughout the fandom. It seems that many of you can relate to my two lonely stay-at-home-moms!

And thanks to you for reading. I'd love to know what you think.

JEN

4535 words

Twitter: JenEsmeFF


	7. Chapter 6, Bella: The Spa Day

**The Fantasy Basket**

**By JenEsme**

**Inspired by Stephenie Meyers' Twilight series. No infringement intended.**

**Chapter 6—Bella: The Spa Day**

**Posted May 23, 2012**

Sunday, April 29, 2012

"…I learned the hard way, Bella that you can't rely on spontaneity to keep things alive. That works when you're a new couple—dating or freshly married—but when jobs and kids and other commitments start to fill up your days, you may forget to turn to each other during your nights. As boring and unromantic as it sounds, I learned that my husband needed specific, planned times to spend time with me. I don't think he wrote it into his calendar at work, but in his structured little mind he needed to know that certain times were set aside just for us. Once I figured that out, things got much better and my feelings were hurt much less often."

_Wait… did she say 'during your nights?' Is she talking about scheduling times for sex? OMG, I think she is!_

All the way to the spa, Esme had been sharing little relationship gems like this one. She kindly did not get too detailed, and tried not to use Carlisle's name. I think she was trying to prevent me from thinking about WHO the characters in her stories really were. Bless her!

"… It's important to put your marriage first. It's the very best gift you can ever give your children. A strong marriage is the foundation that all the other aspects of your life grow from: jobs, kids, home… If your relationship with your husband isn't stable, then anything else you do will be weak and faulty as well. Put him first. Think of him first when you make decisions. Look at him and talk to him first after you've been apart. Serve him first at dinner. He should be your first priority, and you should be his, even when you're busy and overwhelmed. Especially then."

"But shouldn't your kids be top priority?"

"I used to think so, and I almost lost my husband for it. The kids wouldn't be here without the two of you. They will feel more secure and more loved if you show them that their parents love and respect each other and are an unbreakable team that will protect and nurture the family together. And it's good to set an example for what a healthy, loving, affectionate marriage looks like. They're certainly not seeing that on TV these days." I shook my head in chagrin.

"Remember the bridal shower that Rosalie threw for you?" Rosalie is my very snarky sister-in-law, married to Edward's older brother, Emmett.

"The 50s housewife? That was hilarious. It was so much fun."

"Remember the rules that Rose found in an old Home Ec textbook. 'How to be a good wife,' or something like that?"

I nodded.

"Well, I know we joked about them at your party, how old fashioned they were. And don't get me wrong, I'm an independent woman with my own business. I taught my boys to cook and clean and support their wives whether they choose to work inside or outside the home…"

"Yeah, I think Edward forgot."

"Remind him! Anyway, in my experience, a lot of those silly old rules are actually pretty valid. I remember biting my tongue at your party because it was all in good fun to mock them, but a majority of the list was ways to make him feel loved and secure. Of course, it shouldn't be as one-sided as the list suggested. He needs to treat his wife the _exact_ same way… And the rule about not questioning him if he stays out late or even all night long, that one was complete crap!"

"Amen!" We high fived before getting out of the car at the spa. This was going to be a great day.

As uncomfortable as it was to discuss marriage and sex with Edward's mom, once I got over that fact and started talking to Esme as a friend and confidant, I realized that her advice was really very valuable, and spot on to the issues I was having with Edward in most cases. We continued talking throughout our day at the spa. It was really kind of wonderful, and my respect and admiration for Esme grew even more. I came to truly believe that as sticky sweet as my in-laws are now, at one time they certainly had struggled to stay together, and I was so grateful that she was willing to share her experience and advice for overcoming the obstacles. She taught me that it's normal and expected for the euphoric "in love" feelings to wane after a few years of marriage, that you need to replace them with a more mature, emotional love that can endure life's hills and valleys, that it's how you spend all the mundane time in between the happy snapshots in your photo albums that really define your marriage and make it strong.

"My father-in-law, of all people, said something once that really stuck with me," she said. "In a sermon he was giving about love and fidelity, he read some excerpts from the love letters between him and his wife years before. Their written words were all about missing each other and wanting to be together constantly. Then he said, 'Now that I've had her around for a few decades that's not the most important thing anymore. Now I want to see vacuum lines on the carpet when I get home.'"

"What?"

"He said that there was no greater feeling to him than to come home in the evening to the smell of dinner cooking and vacuum lines on the rug. He loved feeling taken care of. And then he said that he was always sure to tell her how much he appreciated all that she did for him, because that's what made her feel loved in return—recognition. He said that right in front of the whole congregation. That taught me that you just have to figure out what it is that makes your spouse feel special and loved and do that for him. My husband loves being taken care of, just like his father did. So, I make an effort to do things he'll appreciate—keeping the house clean, picking up his clothes at the dry cleaners, bringing him a drink when he's thirsty…"

_OH!_ The image of her, glowing, in her little silk robe late at night with a glass of water for Carlisle popped into my head. I wished she hadn't said that!

"Did you know that I actually HATE cooking?" she admitted.

"What? You're kidding! But you're so good at it."

"I'd rather have Chinese take-out any day. I signed up for cooking classes and forced myself to learn just because it means so much to him."

"Wow. I'm shocked!"

"His other thing is that he needs to be touched."

I cringed. "Oh, I don't know if I want to hear about that!"

She held her newly manicured hand up and shook it as if to erase the thought. "Oh, no no no—I didn't mean like that! I mean the little affectionate touches that you've noticed: hugs and kisses, hand holding, an arm around his waist, fingers through his hair or a hand on his cheek. If I'm touching him, he feels secure and loved, so I give him that whenever he's within reach. It took some practice, but now it's second nature, and it's really nice."

"That's so sweet, Esme."

"You know, Bella, ever since Edward was a little boy, he's loved back rubs. I remember him at three or four years old, crying and hiccuping through his sobs, 'I need pats on the back.'"

"Really?" I thought for a moment and my jaw dropped, "Oh my god, I can't believe I forgot about that."

"Hmm?"

I shook my head and changed the subject. "So, what's yours, Esme?"

"Me? I respond more to words—praise, encouragement, compliments, being recognized in front of others…"

"I've noticed Carlisle doing that. He always has something nice to say about you."

She nodded, "It didn't come automatically, though. I had to TELL him that that's what I needed—repeatedly. He got it eventually. I remember when I was just getting started in the design business. We were at a dinner party for a bunch of his colleagues and their spouses—not a huge fan of some of those people—and then Carlisle stood up to give a toast. He stood in front of all of his colleagues and their wives, looked right at me as he raised his wine glass, and gave the most beautiful and heartfelt toast, honoring me and announcing my new venture. He said that he hoped all his friends could have the same feeling of beauty and love and comfort in their homes that I had created in his own."

"Oh, Esme…"

Even the nail technicians who were working on our pedicures were impressed. They spoke in Vietnamese for a moment, and then one of them said "He's a good man. You lucky lady!"

"Yes, I'm very lucky. But then, of course, he had to make a doctor joke laden with innuendo about how I may decorate Seattle's bedrooms, but ours had the BIGGEST… bed of all, and that's where I'd be sleeping every night, or something egotistical like that. I don't remember exactly…"

I rolled my eyes and nodded in understanding. Sounds just like Edward and his buddies. "Those doctors and their big… egos!" We giggled. _Yep, definitely opening up to the mother-in-law now_.

"Despite his dirty joke, Bella, it was so thoughtful. He believed in me and he put his reputation on the line by recommending me to all of his colleagues. That just meant so much to me. And I did get several new clients from that dinner party. It was actually a housewarming party for my very first clients when their remodel was finished, so that helped, but, gosh, now that I think about it… yes, all but one of those couples hired me at some point through the years. The one couple that didn't were already in divorce negotiations when we went to the party. And they had had their whole house done by my business partner before I started working with her, so… Hmmm. How about that?"

_Oh my god_, I thought, PR brain kicking into action, _a 100% response rate to any marketing initiative is unheard of. I knew her business was pretty successful, but this woman is a force to be reckoned with_. "Wow! That's amazing. And it's so sweet that Carlisle did that for you." She nodded and smiled.

"It's hard to believe that a year before that we were barely talking. We'd go a week without so much as a kiss goodbye in the morning; for days our only conversation was about whether he'd be home for dinner or not. There was no happiness, no joy. Many days, our "No Dumping" rule was the only thing to keep us together."

She told me how on their honeymoon, they'd walked past a vacant lot near their condo every day that had a "No Dumping" sign posted on the fence. Carlisle had joked that it was meant for the newlyweds—that neither of them was allowed to dump the other, no matter what. "We had no idea back then how that silly little sign would become so powerful to us. You have to choose to stay sometimes, Bella. Choose to love your husband every day, even when it's hard. I think you know about that, Bella, anyone who's been married awhile does. Some days when you're feeling neglected or extra stressed about the kids, you just have to decide to stick it out; have faith that tomorrow or next week or next year will be better. And if it doesn't get better, you figure out a way to MAKE it happen."

"Well, you sure made it happen. I guess there's hope for the rest of us, huh?"

"Yes, Bella, there's always hope, but you can't just wish for it, you have to work for it, and it's not always romantic. Sometimes it's very forced."

"The other thing that makes me feel loved is when my husband takes time to be with me and give me his undivided attention. You know how a surgeon's schedule is. It's not easy for them to find time for everything, or everyone. And with Carlisle, anything he does has to be in his book, or at least planned out in his mind—the complete opposite of how my creative brain operates! It made me so happy one time when he brought his Franklin Planner home and penciled in time for a date night every other week for the entire year. It may sound really dorky and unromantic to others, but that was the very best thing he could have done to show that he cared about me. Once you figure out what makes each other feel loved and work that into your daily interactions, everyone feels better.

Our day at the spa was winding down. We were buffed and polished, waxed and massaged, and very relaxed. I didn't want our great day and our fantastic conversation to end. We called to check in with the guys on our way to my favorite Italian place. Over dinner and a couple glasses of wine, Esme opened up even more, telling me a lot about their past. I knew they'd been together since they were really young, but I hadn't realized that she was still in high school when they started dating. I gleaned that they'd both been virgins and it was pretty scandalous to their families when she returned from a year of studying abroad in college and they decided to live together.

"We had to spend the extra money for appearances to rent a two bedroom apartment and tell them that we each had our own room. I'm sure they knew the truth, and they certainly didn't approve, but we just wanted to be together after spending 47 weeks on different continents. And this was before Skype or cell phones or even email. We wrote letters every day, which took over a week to arrive, and called each other once a month for about 20 minutes. That was it."

I chuckled. "You were counting the weeks, huh?" She smiled and nodded. "That must have been so hard. Somebody asked me to do a long distance thing once, but there was no way… Wow. How did you two survive? You weren't even married yet."

She shook her head no. "Commitment." She shrugged. "First you have to find the right person, the one you're willing to wait for, which yours must not have been. And then you commit to him, you don't give up." She smiled wistfully. "There were times when I was abroad or later when we were married and times were tough… oh, or during his residency," her eyebrows rose and she shook her head, "that I would get so lonely. I wondered what it would have been like to have dated around a bit, to have taken some of those lovely Frenchmen up on their offers to show me around Paris. I wondered if I was missing out on something. But not many couples are each other's one and only. That's a pretty rare thing anymore, and we've protected it, guarded it carefully."

She thought for a minute as if she wasn't sure that she wanted to share the next thing with me. "There was one area that I know suffered from our mutual lack of experience," my jaw dropped—_was this a sex talk?_—"and it took a very painful experience for me to find a way to fix it."

I raised my eyebrows and waited for her to continue.

"It was the same time that we were having trouble, about 15 years married or so, and I was already feeling insecure. We went to my 20th high school reunion where he looked so good in his black Armani and lots of women were gawking at him. We'd talked to so many of my classmates that night who'd gotten divorced, and that scared me. And then I overheard some women talking about my husband in the ladies room. They knew who I was and they were drunk and obviously attracted to him, and they said some things—very hurtful things—that made me realize that maybe my husband needed more than I knew how to give him… physically."

"WHAT? Who would say something like that about a friend's husband?"

"Well, we weren't exactly friends. I think the term is 'frenemies' nowadays. Anyway, they were drunk, and had no idea that I was eavesdropping."

"But still, you just don't…"

"Some women do, Bella. Look how those so-called friends of yours were talking about Edward at Riley's party."

"Yeah, I guess so. And Carlisle, too, which made it even more offensive." I shook my head in disgust. "But Esme, how could you even take that seriously? It doesn't seem to bother you now. What you two have is so special, how could…"

She shook her head. "It was a really bad time for us back then. It was all about work and the kids. Nothing left for each other. We barely spoke, hardly touched at all, and only…" she huffed a breath out of her nose, "…mated occasionally. Usually when _he_ needed it."

I reached across the table and squeezed her hand. "I'm sorry." This was getting uncomfortable.

"The boys were both in school, I hadn't started working again yet. I was lonely! I started retreating into my own little fantasy world of romance novels just to try to feel… something, anything. It was really unhealthy. Like an addiction."

She lifted her eyes to me and smiled. "I'm so sorry, I don't need to go there… Suffice it to say, the reunion and those comments were a real wake up call, the turning point in our relationship. Thankfully, we were staying at the hotel, without the kids and we were able to talk freely without being interrupted every five seconds. So, we talked that night, a lot. We decided that we both wanted to fall back in love and to never let it get that bad again. And then we went home and we got to work, fixing things. It took months, but we made some big changes. We put each other first, spent more time together, identified and then started doing those little things that mattered to each other. I learned to cook. He learned that the world wouldn't end if he turned off his beeper during dinner. But still, the physical part wasn't really happening. It just wasn't, for whatever reason, and I decided that I wanted to fix that part of us, too. I tried lots of things. I read how-to books, I stopped wearing sweats and holey t-shirts to bed…"

"Yeah, I've seen your little skimpy robe." She blushed.

"I event went to a porn shop and bought a few things."

"No way! I could never do that. I think I'd just order stuff on the internet if I…"

"Well, that wasn't an option then." She told a hilarious story of sitting in her car, scared to death to go into the creepy shop. "After all that, it actually backfired; I think I scared him off! The night I brought the presents home was great, but after that—dry spell. He even turned me down one extremely rare afternoon when the kids were gone—to go get a haircut!"

"What?"

She just shrugged and nodded. "Structured. It wasn't his PLAN for the day. Nothing seemed to work until I gave him the Fantasy Basket." She quickly picked up her wine glass and took a long drink, obviously nervous.

"The what?"

"The Fantasy Basket. Remember what I said about scheduling? Carlisle always hated Tuesdays. That's when he had meetings at work all day. So I thought of a way to make every Tuesday better."

_Uh oh_.

"I gave him a basket for Christmas that was filled with fantasies for us to play out, one per week for the whole upcoming year. He would draw a slip of paper every Tuesday morning so we could both think about it all day long. That's the key Bella, we started thinking about each other romantically again. Remember when you were dating and you just wanted to be with the other person all the time? We recreated that sense of urgency to be together so that it built up in our minds all day and we were excited to see each other again. Then, on Tuesday nights, I started coming to bed early instead of staying up late to work on whatever jobs didn't get done that day. I put Carlisle first every Tuesday night, and it built from there. I know it sounds boring and regimented to plan for sex on a weekly schedule, but trying to be spontaneous just wasn't working for us and this helped. The Fantasy Basket forced us to make the time for each other, to think about each other during the day, which was great foreplay, and the fantasies themselves helped us to freshen things up and learn new things about one another," she said with a dreamy smile.

"I'm not sure I really want to know, but what kinds of things were in the basket, Esme?"

"Morbid curiosity, huh?"

I nodded in response, cringing. "Were they like new positions and stuff? Or role playing?"

"Positions, yes. Role playing, yes… we had to play doctor, of course! What else? Ummm… Bubble bath and a massage, kissing with flavored lip gloss, a dirty movie, and lots of other things. It was awfully hard to think of 52 different things, so I introduced a little of everything that I was willing to try. Some included props, some included costumes… I think I came up with around 40 fantasies to start with, and I invited him to write down some of his own and add them to the basket. I remember that he put in strip poker, knowing I couldn't play at all... Half the time we laughed at how ridiculous and uncomfortable we felt, but that was ok because at least it brought us together. And the other half…" She smiled and turned bright red.

"Oh my god." I covered my eyes with my hand and couldn't look at Esme for a few seconds. How would I ever face Carlisle? "No, no, no…"

"Bella, it's ok. Listen, it's late!" she said. "We really should be getting home. I try not to stay out too late. Somebody has trouble sleeping without me. We can talk more at Alice's party on Tuesday, ok? Oh, don't tell Edward about this just yet. The surprise is part of the fun, so wait until you get your basket put together."

"Oh, you think I'm going to do this?"

"Of course you are!"

_Holy crow!_

"Mama!" Riley ran to me when we returned home.

"You're up late, kiddo." As I bent down to hug my pajama-clad toddler, Esme lifted an eyebrow at me and nodded toward Edward. I took the hint and stood to hug and kiss Edward. _Marriage first, Riley next!_ I looked into Edward's eyes and said, "I missed you, Clark, how was the water?" as Riley clamped his little arms around my knees and chattered endlessly.

"Mama! Gampa and I go'ed to the park. We pway ball. Drove my new twuck all full of sand. Gampa pushed me on the swing! I go'ed so high, mama!"

"We're on the boat for five hours and all he remembers is the 20 minutes that Dad took him to the park while I tied her down?" He shook his head in resignation.

"Really Ri?" I asked, leaning down to pick him up after consoling Edward with another quick kiss and a squeeze. That elicited a curious look first toward me and then toward his mother.

Esme shrugged slightly and with a knowing smile suggested, "You sailors must be awfully tired. I'd better help Grandpa get to bed. Night night!" She gave Riley a kiss on the cheek and then took Carlisle's hand and led him upstairs.

"Good night, big guy," Carlisle said as he tousled Riley's hair and kissed him on the forehead, before hurrying up the stairs with his wife.

Esme POV

We hurried up the stairs, discreetly racing to the guest room. As soon as the door latched closed, I found myself enveloped in Carlisle's strong arms, his lips kneading mine with an intensity you'd expect from a man who had not seen his love for days or weeks, not just the nine hours we had been apart.

"I missed you, Baby," he whispered, nibbling the spot behind my ear that drove me wild, and unbuttoning my silk blouse with his nimble fingers.

"Oh, Carlisle," I sighed as I lifted his polo shirt to remove it, missing his warm touch during the brief seconds his arms were lifted overhead.

"I want to see what you had done at the spa today, my love," he murmured as he pushed my slacks over my hips, letting them drop to the floor. He lay me down on the bed and, kneeling on the floor, took my feet in his hands, massaging and kissing them. "What color are your sweet toes?... Mmm, French, of course, mon petit cherie." He bit my toes and then the arch of my foot, sending a burst of electricity all through my body. Placing my feet on his shoulders, he ran his hands up my legs. "Mmm… so smooth," he whispered as he placed kisses up the insides of my legs. "Did you get waxed _all_ the way up?" He nudged my lace underwear down for a peek, kissing from my navel down to where my pubic hair used to begin. "Mmmmm… that's so sexy." He backed up just long enough to remove my panties from my legs. "You're so good to me. Those Brazilians must hurt. Let me kiss it better…"

I smiled at him and put my feet flat on the bed, bending my knees and spreading my legs apart to give him a clear view.

"Oh, I love seeing you bare." He placed warm, moist kisses inside my thighs and all along the crease where my legs met my body, carefully avoiding the places I wanted him most, driving me crazy. His hands caressed all the places where my hair had been removed, followed by tender kisses, but still neglecting the prize in the center. He spread my lips with his fingers, took a deep breath of my womanly scent, and blew warm breath up and down, up and down. He looked up into my eyes. I licked my lips, blew a kiss toward him, closed my eyes, and dropped my head back in anticipation. He didn't disappoint, finally placing gentle kisses all along my parted labia. He dragged his flat tongue from bottom to top, placed his lips around me and began to suckle my clitoris as his hands grasped my thighs. He alternated sucking and flicking me with the tip of his tongue, causing me to pant and moan, my heart to race. I gripped his hair in my fists, pulling his face closer as he continued his heavenly assault. One more flat lick and quick flick of my clit with his tongue sent me flying.

"Ohhhhhhhhh," I sighed, struggling to keep quiet. "Oh Oh Oh Oh." I sobbed. "Ohhhhhhh Carlisle….." I whispered as I writhed and squeezed in ecstasy. Hands still in his hair, I guided him up onto the bed for a passionate kiss.

I moved my hands to unbutton his pants. "We need to get rid of these. I need you inside me immediately." I unzipped his fly and together we shoved his pants and boxers down his hips. He kicked them off and I grabbed his rear to pull him close, line him up, and guide him inside me. He filled me with one thrust, and I wrapped my legs around his waist and lifted my hips to pull him in even deeper. He backed almost all the way out, thrust quickly back in, and repeated the motion again and again and again, moaning into my shoulder. After awhile, he shifted position and sped up, staying deep this time so that he hit my g-spot continuously. Oh, this man knew just the right angle to make me feel so good.

I grabbed my knees and lifted my legs wide, feet in the air. "Ohhhhhhhh…. yes, yes, yes, right there. Ohhhhhhh Carlisle… Oh god… mmmmm." I wanted to scream in ecstasy as he grunted through his own orgasm, but instead I held him tight and clenched my teeth to try to keep our lovemaking private.

As I lay spent in his arms, Carlisle asked, "How was your little talk with Bella today, Miss Meddling Mother-in-law?"

"Hey," I replied with a pout. "She ASKED for my advice!" He laughed. "We had a lovely time. I really feel like we got to know each other better. It's like we're on more equal ground now that she's a mother and beyond the exhaustion of his infant stage. We felt more like friends than parent and child, if that makes sense. That made it a lot easier to talk about our marriages. You should have seen the incredulous look on her face when I told her that we'd had tough times, too. She really didn't believe me, Carlisle. She scoffed even!" He laughed.

"Oh, if only they knew, huh?…" I nodded.

"How was your day, Sweetie?"

"The boys and I had fun. It was a beautiful day. Riley is such a cute little bugger. Edward is just great with him. I see what you mean about him and Bella, though. He wouldn't say much when I asked about her. It's so hard to see them struggling, but I didn't want to press." He shook his head regretfully.

"Oh, Ezzy, I remember those tough times with you. How I loved you so much but I felt so tired and stressed all the time that I treated you terribly. How I was torn between loving the kids so much and wishing we'd never had them, and then feeling guilty for even thinking that. How I put so much pressure on myself to succeed at work so I could provide for you guys. I just couldn't figure out how to fit everything into each day."

"We got through it, Sweetie. They will too." He nodded and gave my shoulder a squeeze. "I hope so."

I stood to go get cleaned up. "Need a drink?"

He nodded and smiled. "Thanks. You're so good to me."

Bella POV

I cuddled our baby and Edward held us both against his chest as we sang Riley his bedtime lullaby together. "Night-night baby boy! I love you."

"I love you, too, Mini-me. Thanks for a fun Daddy-day!" He leaned over and put a kiss on top of Riley's head. Then he kissed me on the temple. "Babe, I don't know how you do it day after day. You…" Edward suddenly stiffened and muttered, "Jeez, Sunday night, just like back home." He shook his head in disgust at the muffled sounds of lovemaking that we could hear faintly through the wall that the guest room shared with Riley's. "Oh, god, that's my mom. I have to get out of here." Edward gave Riley a quick kiss and took off, not waiting for me to lay him down in his crib and tuck him in.

"I thought it was Tuesdays?" I said as I entered our bedroom, closing the door behind me.

"Ugh—it was both. Every Sunday and Tuesday night they locked up in their room as soon as we went upstairs to bed. Oh my god! Emmett and I figured it out around high school, I was probably still in middle school, I don't know, whenever I started staying up late to do homework. Em thought it was hilarious, but I was just grossed out. Sundays were relatively tame, but Tuesdays were worse—louder, crazier. I don't even want to think about what kind of freaky stuff they were doing… Still are doing, apparently." He shuddered.

I blushed, knowing that Tuesdays were their fantasy basket nights.

"Maybe," I whispered, suggestively, "Sundays were for loving and Tuesdays were for fucking?" His jaw dropped open. "Or maybe Sundays were hers to take the lead and Tuesdays were his… or something? Sounds fun whatever it was! Maybe WE could…"

"Jesus Christ, Bella! I can't believe you said that. How could you think about my parents that way? Growing up with those lovebirds was bad enough. Hearing them in the act is disgusting. I don't want to think about the details. And I don't want my wife thinking about them, either. How could you… ugh! How did you know about Tuesdays, anyway?" He ran his hands through his hair, like he always does when he's nervous or frustrated.

"Your mom has been sharing her tips for marital bliss all day."

"Are you serious?"

"Oh, don't be so uptight, Edward. I think it's wonderful that they're so in love after what, 40 years or so? I think it's great. It sure beats what I grew up with. I don't think Charlie dated at all, and you think it was bad hearing your parents making love? You have no idea how many nameless guys I heard Renee screwing over the years. Apartment walls are thin. She certainly didn't _love_ any of them until she met Phil. I think your parents set a much better example than either of mine. I hope we can be like them someday."

"You're freaking me out here, Bella. How could you talk about my parents like that?"

"I'm not talking about your parents, per se, I'm talking about us. I'm just trying to learn from their example. They have got the best relationship I've ever seen, Edward, and I want that with you. I want…"

"Oh, no, no, no, Bella. Please don't talk to my mom about our love life. Trust me, nothing good can come from that."

_What?_ He was obsessing about the parents-having-sex thing and not listening to anything else I said. "She wasn't going into specifics, Edward. It just came up in conversation about how much things change once you have kids. She said the most important thing you can do to keep your family strong is to keep your marriage strong, and that for them, it took some extreme measures, such as SCHEDULING Tuesday nights for intimacy. I thought it was a good idea and that maybe we could try to schedule some happy times of our own? Unless, of course, you're actually satisfied with 20 minutes, once a month?"

The look on his face was pained… tortured… severely hurt. "Please stop, Bella. I can't do this on top of everything else right now. _Please_ don't."

"Please don't what, Edward? I don't know what you're talking about. I don't understand this problem. All I know is that I love you and I miss you. I came home feeling very relaxed and kind of frisky." I bit my bottom lip and his mouth tensed into a straight line. "I wanted to drag you upstairs and jump into bed, just like they did." I tilted my head toward the guest room. "But instead, I got _this_," I threw my hands up and scowled.

"Please, Bella. I just… I can't do this right now. I have a huge, huge surgery tomorrow morning—early—and I need to get some sleep. Ri totally wore me out today while you were out relaxing and…"

"Yeah, I know. There's always work. There's always a big surgery or a patient emergency or a key point in the research or _something_ more important than spending time with _me_. You make it pretty obvious that I'm not a high priority for you. God, Edward, how much rejection do you think I can take?"

_Oh oh_. I could see in my husband's eyes that he was about to explode. Something I'd said had just set him off and I braced myself for the verbal assault that I could see was coming.

"What the hell am I supposed to do, Bella? Yes, I work. I work a lot. I work so that you can stay home to play with our kid. I work so that you can live in a decent place where he'll go to a good school. I work so you can have a safe car to drive him around to your playgroups and whatever other shit you do all day while I am—oh yeah—_working_ my ass off. If that's not placing you as a high priority, then I don't know what is. I'm sorry if my working is _inconvenient_ for you, or if it doesn't always sync up with your libido but you know if I don't take it seriously, PEOPLE COULD FUCKING DIE. What am I supposed to say then? 'Oops, I killed your husband because I was up late screwing my wife last night. Yeah, she needs to feel like we're keeping up with my parents, so… sorry!' Jesus, Bella, do you even have any idea? One mistake on my part, one big malpractice suit, and we could lose everything, EVERYTHING. God, the sleep deprivation alone these past two years has been bad enough. I…" He pushed his hands through his hair frantically and let out a big shuddering breath. "Listen, I know I'm being a jerk, but I just can't handle any more right now, Bella. I just… can't. Tomorrow's too… fuck!" He ground the heels of his hands into his eyes, trying to rub away the stress and then looked up at me, mournfully. "I'm sorry, ok?" He held his head in his hands and practically pulled his hair out.

"Fine," I snipped, seething. "Go. Get some sleep." I directed him over to our bedroom, following him in. "Good night. Thank you for doing my job today and yours the rest of the time." _Asshole_! I yanked the covers down on my side of the bed and grabbed my pillow. "I'll leave you alone. Don't worry about my libido bothering you because my buzz is sufficiently killed." He stood next to his side of the bed and gaped at me as I left our room, stormed down the hall with my head held high, and gently clicked the door of one of the spare bedrooms shut behind me. I collapsed onto the lonely bed that sat in the middle of the otherwise empty and spartan room, trying to hold back both tears and angry, cursing rants. I buried my face in my pillow, anticipating the need to hide the noise from our guests, and he knocked quietly on the other side of the door.

"Bella? Bella, I'm sorry…" I ignored him, knowing that if I said a word to him now, many more words would come spilling out. Words that I'd regret, especially in front of his parents. "Bella?... Damn it!" I heard him shuffle back down the hall and close our bedroom door behind him. That set off the tears—what seemed like hours of them—as I repeated Esme's words over and over in my mind: _No dumping. Choose to stay. There's always hope… _

Esme POV

_Oh dear,_ I thought as I paused at the top of the stairs, a glass of water in each hand. I tracked the sound of muffled sobs to one of the spare bedrooms.

Carlisle thanked me, and, noticing the look on my face asked "What's wrong, Baby?"

"She's upset again—really upset. We raised that boy better than this, Carlisle."

* * *

A/N

50s Housewife tips are posted in The Fantasy Basket Outtakes Chapter 2—Bella's Wedding Shower. (will post Sat. 5/ 26/12) They're hilarious—go check them out!

So, there were TWO reveals in this chapter: We got to see the whole of Bella and Edward's fight from the Prologue, and we finally found out what The Fantasy Basket was. Were they what you expected or imagined?

Besotted is more than I ever expected or imagined a Beta would be. She makes this story so much better, and she's a fantastic friend. Thanks!

And thanks to YOU for reading. Please let me know what you thought of Esme's advice. What's the best (or worst) advice you've ever gotten?

JEN

6639 words

Twitter: JenEsmeFF (I don't tweet much, but I'm learning!)


	8. Chapter 7, Esme: Christmas

**The Fantasy Basket**

**By JenEsme**

**Inspired by Stephenie Meyers' Twilight series. No infringement intended.**

**Chapter 7—Esme: Christmas**

**Posted 5/30/12**

**Please note: There will be one element in this chapter-a movie reference-that strays from the timeline. The subject matter was too perfect for this part of The Fantasy Basket not to use, even though the actual movie was not released until much later than 1990. Please forgive me this bit of artistic license. Thanks.**

December 1990

"He is so hard to shop for, you know? He buys everything he wants for himself."

"I know what you mean. Eleazar came home a couple of weeks ago with a 100 disc CD player. I said, 'it's a month before Christmas! Why didn't you just put that on your list?'"

"These guys are impossible. I hate just buying him clothes. What am I, HIS mother, too?"

Carmen laughed. We were fighting the holiday crowds at the mall two weeks before Christmas with all five of our kids in tow. School was out for winter break (it sounds so weird to call Christmas Vacation 'Winter Break'—that darn Political Correctness movement!), and we had Santa pictures to take and a few last gifts to buy—Carlisle's being the most difficult.

"Mama, look! It's just like what Buddy got for his dad!" Edward looked so cute all dressed up for Santa in his red plaid shirt and argyle vest. I noticed what he was pointing to and gulped. Why did the people at Robinson's have to put the lingerie section directly across from the Christmas ornaments? My six year old was pointing out a sheer, red, babydoll negligee, complete with white marabou trim along the top and a black velvet belt with a rhinestone buckle under the red velvet cups. It was, indeed, just like the lingerie that Will Farrell's childlike character bought "for someone special," his grouchy father played by James Cahn, in the movie _Elf_. That movie had been full of stupid, childish humor—most of it was pretty tame, but of course Edward remembered the one questionable scene. Time to mom up…

"It is, Edward, good observation. Do you think that was a good present for him to buy his dad?"

It got worse. "No, he probably should have given it to the girl elf instead."

Carmen snorted as she fought to keep her laughter in. Thank goodness the other kids hadn't noticed the exchange.

"Maybe so, Eddie Bear. They are GIRLS pajamas, huh? Let's go pick out your ornament for this year, ok?" _Deflect! Deflect!_

While his attention was successfully diverted, mine was piqued. As the boys scoured the Christmas section for an ornament, the wheels in my mind were turning. The creativity was flowing. I was formulating the perfect gift for my husband.

"What are you smirking at, Es?" Carmen's eyes followed mine across the aisle to the naughty Santa nightie and her eyebrows raised up. "Figure out something for Carlisle, Mrs. Claus?"

"Maybe so," I giggled.

"Why don't I take the boys to pick out a gift for you while you stay here and do a little shopping? Can we meet up in about forty five minutes? Gianna's due to wake up then and I'll need to feed her."

"That would be great, Carmen. They've got a really nice mother's lounge here upstairs by the kids clothing section. I'll meet you there and take the other kids for a shift so you can nurse her in peace." I'd used that room many times when the boys were babies. I'd breastfed each of them for a year and a half, and had never supplemented with formula. My girls may be small, but they did the job they were intended for! An added benefit was that ever since, my breasts had been a lot less ticklish, but a lot more sensitive and responsive to Carlisle's touch.

"Thanks, Es."

"Hey, Cullen Boys—I need to talk to you!"

"Mom, look what I picked out!" Emmett proudly held up the biggest, gaudiest ornament I think I'd ever seen.

"Wow, that's really colorful! Are you sure that one's your favorite?" He nodded enthusiastically.

"Ok. Miss Carmen is going to take you guys to pick out a present for me and I'm going to shop on my own for a bit. She's in charge while I'm gone and remember that if you can't see her, she can't see you. Be good. Have fun."

"Ok. Hey mom, I know what I'm gonna pick out for you! Do you like…"

"Stop—don't tell me, Edward! Not even a hint! I like to be surprised on Christmas morning." He had a tendency to spill the beans, not realizing that his "hints" were way too obvious.

"Thanks Carmen, I'll see you upstairs." She nodded and herded the kids toward the elevator.

Once they were out of sight, I crossed the walkway and found my size in the Santa nightie. I hadn't bought much lingerie before, other than my plain old underwear and bras and a couple of nightgowns I rarely wore—I usually slept in sweats and a t-shirt. On our honeymoon, I'd worn a sexy little teddy that I got as a wedding shower gift, but it was really uncomfortable—scratchy lace and boning—and it was hard to get out of, which kind of defeated the purpose, so I just figured that lingerie wasn't our thing. I wish I hadn't waited 15 years to try again. The ones I looked at here were fancy and frilly without being scratchy. They were sexy and fun, and I was really excited about the gift I was going to give Carlisle. I actually took a whole armload of colors and styles into the dressing room, and ended up with four sets, including the Santa one.

Taking a cue from the dirty movie we had watched, I decided I needed some sexy shoes to go with my new underwear. I usually chase the kids around in flats or sneakers, but the movie girls wore super high heels and left them on when everything else came off. I checked the sale rack and found a pair of black patent leather strappy shoes with 4 inch heels that had little rhinestone buckles that matched the Santa negligee—perfect! I also found a pair of heels in zebra print and another that had metal studs on them and looked kind of tough. I couldn't believe I was actually doing something like this. I hope Carlisle doesn't think I'm crazy. On my way upstairs to get the kids, I saw a leather choker with some flat metal studs to match the shoes. Had to get that, too, for when we tried out our bondage set. Maybe it would give Carlisle a laugh after his studded collar comment. _Ha!_

Later, at Carmen's house, her baby and toddler were down for naps and the three older kids were playing upstairs. She set a cup of coffee down in front of me and said, "Do tell, girlfriend. What are you up to with your lingerie shopping? Those bags are a lot bigger than you need for your tiny little Mrs. Claus nightie!"

We were both pretty private people, and never really talked about our sex lives or anything like that, but she did know about the steps I'd been taking to improve my relationship with Carlisle. I took a deep breath. "Well, you know what we've been doing to try to help our marriage—the date nights, the talking, trying to be more affectionate, and all that?" She nodded. "Well, we don't have much of a physical aspect at all. Maybe once a month, if that."

Carmen nodded in understanding. "I hear ya! It's hard with the kids, huh?"

"Yeah. So, anyway, now they're a little older and I'm not getting up all hours of the night with them anymore…"

"I'm so jealous!"

I laughed apologetically. "Anyway, with all this stuff I've been reading, I realize that we really need to work on our physical relationship, too. But we're both kind of shy and neither of us had any experience before each other, so I tried to spice things up by buying some toys and things…" The story of my porn shop adventure brought us both a great fit of laughter. "But even though we have the stuff, we're not using it. We're either too tired, or one of us isn't in the mood, or somebody's sick, or I have my period, or whatever." I snorted. "Maybe he's just being anal retentive with his stupid calendar. If I'm not in his book, it's not going to happen, you know? I told you about the time he turned me down to go get a haircut, right?" She nodded and laughed at the ridiculousness of that situation. "Boy, did I give him a piece of my mind after that! He's been better, but it just still isn't happening as naturally as it should. So I thought maybe I'd try to _schedule_ one night a week where we have an appointment to play… in bed. Does that sound too regimented and weird?"

"You know, I've never seen Carlisle without his planner and his beeper. I think scheduling time for sex may be just what you guys need. Do you think he'll go for it?"

"Well, that's what popped into my head at the store today. If I make it his Christmas present to draw an experience or a fantasy out of a hat one day a week for the whole new year, maybe he won't see it as me demanding more time in his planner. It's a gift, right, not an obligation?"

"I love it!" She clapped her hands. "You are so clever. I never knew you were such a dirty girl, Esme!"

I blushed and covered my eyes with my hands. "I can't believe I'm doing this." We spent the rest of the afternoon thinking up different fantasies and writing the naughty little notes I'd use to introduce them. It was kind of fun to see this new side of my best friend.

The following weekend was the annual Christmas party for Carlisle's medical group. It was nice to get to know the people that my husband spent so much of his time with, and to compare notes with the other "hospital widows," most of them, anyway. Some doctors and their wives were so full of themselves—completely materialistic and all for show, talking about their fancy cars and summer houses and plastic surgery. There were many high-flying egos among this group, that's for sure. But there were several kind, compassionate people, too. I mostly hung around with my friend Kate. She and her husband Garrett are such good people. They've got kids a little older than ours and are very level headed. Garrett has his pilot's license and he volunteers his time and his Cessna for Doctors Without Borders, traveling to underdeveloped countries to provide free medical care to people in need. He was telling us about his latest trip to South America. In college, Carlisle had done a research project on indigenous medical practices of the Amazon, he was very interested to hear what things were like there now.

While we were talking, Carlisle was paged. Everyone heard the beep, and the room grew silent. When people saw that it was Carlisle checking the offending little black box clipped to his belt, there was a collective sigh of relief among the spouses. Several of them shot me sympathetic looks. The other doctors were happy that it wasn't them who had to go in to work, and many of them razzed Carlisle for his bad luck. "Glad it's you, not me, Sucker!"

"Sorry, Love," he declared, returning from the phone. "It's an emergency with a patient I operated on yesterday."

"Oh, Carlisle, they're just about to start the gift exchange."

"Why don't you stay, Esme? We'll drive you home," Kate offered.

"That sounds great, Ezzy, then you won't have to miss it. Just pick out the best present for me, ok? Thanks Garrett. Kate. Merry Christmas everyone, it was great to see you." He waved goodbye to the group as I walked him to the door.

"I'll miss you. Hurry home to me."

"I will, Baby. I'm sorry, but it can't be helped. This guy's been touch and go ever since we opened him up. I'd hate for his family to lose him at Christmas."

What a difference from his attitude toward me just a few months ago! "You're so compassionate, Sweetheart. I love that about you, even if it means I have to share." I wrapped my arms around his waist.

"Well, you get most of me! I'm kind of glad to get out of here, anyway. You met the new guy, right? Dr. Hunter? Well, his wife Victoria keeps hitting on me, for crying out loud. Right in front of James and everyone."

"The redhead who's been boasting about her boob job all night? Yeah, I noticed that. I'll keep them here and make sure she doesn't track you down."

"Mmmm…My protector…" He kissed me longingly a few times. "Gotta go, Baby."

"Love you…"

I drew two numbers from the dish that was going around. Each person, in order of their number, could choose an unopened gift or steal one that had already been opened from someone else. Once a gift was stolen three times, it was frozen and couldn't be stolen again. Everyone had been instructed to bring a holiday themed gift. That was pretty broad, and I wondered what we'd see. I had brought a beautiful embroidered holiday throw blanket and a set of scented candles in glass angel-themed holders. Technically, Carlisle brought one of those, but I picked them both out. There were a lot of really nice gifts, and some silly gag gifts, like the reindeer boxer shorts with the light-up nose. One of the guys obviously bought those. Since I was playing for two and kept getting stolen from, I opened a lot of presents. Toward the end of the game, I was stolen from yet again.

"Ok, this is Carlisle's turn." There was only one unopened gift left—the candleholders I had brought myself—so that was out. And most of the opened gifts I was interested in were frozen by this point.

"Take the jock strap!" The guys were teasing me to take the most risqué gift of the night home to Carlisle. It was a bottle of tequila with a tiny pair of men's Santa underwear. I secretly wanted it, since it matched the Mrs. Claus lingerie I had bought, but I was far too embarrassed to choose it in front of Carlisle's colleagues.

"Come on, Esme, Cullen needs the jock strap!"

"I'll give you five bucks to take the Santa jock strap!"

"I'll give you ten! But we need a photo to prove he's worn it!"

My face was so hot. I could barely contain my laughter. I thought I'd play along. "Well, I don't know if I should get it for him, guys," I said, picking it up and examining the pouch that would hold the owner's manly parts. "It might not be big enough." Howls and hoots of applause erupted throughout the room. "Tell you what, if somebody can add another five dollars and make it an even twenty, I'll take it!"

"Sold! Don't forget—photo proof on the fridge in the doctor's lounge by Monday!"

"Will do!" I took my bottle of tequila, my Santa Speedo, and my twenty bucks, _thankyouverymuch_, and took a seat. This set off a chain reaction of stealing, as the previous owner of the Santa pants stole something else, and so on. Eventually, Victoria was empty handed, and eyeing my prize.

"Let me be your Santa, Baby, get me those trunks!" James called from across the room. She passed him a sly smile and a quirked eyebrow.

"I'll give you another twenty bucks if we get a picture of Hunter in the jock strap!"

"Forty bucks? You got it!" Victoria took his twenty and stuck it in her bra, then leaned over to pick up the bottle, money, and underwear from me, whispering, "I'd gladly strip Carlisle of his underwear, any day." She winked at me and slithered across the room to James, twirling the briefs on her index finger, singing, "Santa Baby, hurry down the chimney tonight…"

Kate and Garrett were the only other people to hear Victoria's comment. We looked at each other, astonished. That woman was unbelievable! I'd had enough. I just took the last unopened gift—the one I had brought myself—to end the game. Meanwhile, James was slipping the underwear on over his slacks. Someone handed him a wad of tissue paper from one of the gift bags.

"Here, bro, you don't quite fill it up like Carlisle would." James stuffed the paper in front, resulting in a ridiculously large bulge, and made all sorts of lewd gestures, grabbing his crotch, thrusting his pelvis, and pretending to hump his wife while his coworkers snapped photos and cheered him on.

"I think it's time to go." I turned to Kate and Garrett. He was already off gathering our coats.

Christmas morning was a flurry of activity. After playing the dutiful family and spending most of Christmas Eve at my in-laws' church services, then staying up late to help Santa unload his gifts for the boys, stuff the stockings, nibble the cookies, and prep the breakfast casserole, we dropped into bed, exhausted. We had a rule that the boys couldn't wake us up to go open presents until at least 7:00 am, but our sleep was interrupted by Edward knocking on our door at six and again at six thirty, asking if it was time yet. _Argh_!

"We'll come and get you when it's time, Buddy! Stay in bed until then, ok?" The time finally came, and it was wonderful to see how joyful the boys were as they dumped out their stockings, tore through gift wrap, shouted with delight when they opened something they'd really wanted, and stuffed themselves with chocolates and candy canes. They settled in to playing with their new toys, happy to stay in their pajamas all day. Carlisle wanted a shower, so I followed him upstairs, closing the door behind us. He looked at me, curiously.

I wrapped my arms around him and breathed into his ear, "I've got something else for you."

"What is it?" He removed his plaid flannel pajama top as I retrieved his gift from my closet.

"Something I didn't want to give you in front of the kids." I handed him a small gift with a note attached to the front. He opened a pair of forest green silk boxer shorts and read:

_12/25/90_

_Dear Sweetheart,_

_Merry Christmas! I know you've been a busy and stressed out Santa lately, so I've arranged for Mrs. Claus to join you tonight to help relieve some of your tension. She'll have a gift that you'll enjoy all year long, starting tonight. Meet upstairs at 10:00 pm. I know it will be hard to wait until then. In the meantime, you can wear these Sexy Santa shorts today and every time you feel the silky softness rubbing up against you, you can think about how good it will feel to kiss Mrs. Claus tonight, to taste her milk and cookies, and to unload your big Christmas package. Merry Christmas! _

Jeez, Carmen and I had put every innuendo imaginable into that note. I hope we didn't overdo it!

He looked quite shocked and a little perplexed. "So, what's tonight at 10:00? What does it mean, 'all year long'?"

I shrugged. "Meet me here at 10:00 and you'll find out." I rubbed the silk shorts up and down his chest. "I promise it's something good, Santa." I kissed him and retreated to my sink to wash my face and brush my teeth and hair while he finished undressing and climbed in the shower. I'm so glad I selected the clear glass doors. I admired him from my mirror as the water and soap ran down his succulent body, and I couldn't wait for 10:00 pm!

We spent Christmas day relaxing and having fun with the kids. We built Legos, played with new toys, and watched the _Home Alone_ video that Emmett received. (All afternoon Edward kept putting his hands on his face and gasping, just like Macauley Culkin.) Carlisle played football with the boys while I looked through my new cookbook. I'm excited about my gift certificate to a cooking school. I've been trying to learn new recipes and improve my cooking skills, so cooking classes will be great. We also called close friends and started writing thank you notes.

"You can't play with it until you've thanked the person who gave it to you, Emmett." He groaned in protest. "Hey, if you're not thankful for it, we can just send it back to them."

"All right, all right…"

After a quick dinner, we played a board game and tucked the boys into bed. I spent an hour straightening the house back up, and it was finally time. I was really nervous about what Carlisle would think. As I changed into my Santa nightie and high heels, I worried. We had both always been so conservative. Would he think I was being too forward? Would he be horrified at the fantasies and at me for thinking of them? Would he like seeing me in the sexy Mrs. Claus outfit? There was only one way to find out. I emerged from my walk in closet with a basket full of small wrapped gifts and a velvet bag. Carlisle's eyes just about popped out of his head. OK, he likes the outfit!

I handed him the second note. "This is all for you, Santa."

_12/25/90 - 10 pm_

_Merry Christmas! Did you ever get underwear for Christmas as a kid? Back then, it was pretty boring, but now I hope you've found it to be the most exciting gift ever. This is your Tuesday underwear and it comes with a Fantasy Basket. I know you hate Tuesdays, so the Fantasy Basket will give you something nice to think about all day every Tuesday. Each Tuesday morning, you can reach in and select a fantasy that will come true on Tuesday night. Maybe Tuesday will become your favorite day of the week!_

_(PS—It was hard to think of 52 fantasies, so I want you to add some of your own to the basket. I can't wait to help you make YOUR dreams come true.)_

"Seriously?"

"Mmm hmm. Are Tuesdays good for you, because we could do it any day you like, as long as we do it."

"I think Tuesdays are great. What kind of stuff is in there?"

"Everything you could ever dream of."

"This is nice… Like your senior picture." He ran his fingers along the marabou trim, from one shoulder, down and across my chest, and up to the other shoulder. "Is strip poker in there? Maybe we could play sometime and you could take it off."

"Strip Poker's not in there now, but you can add it. I don't know how to play, though."

"Even better." He smirked. He leaned in to kiss my neck and dragged his thumbs along the black "belt" that ran just under my breasts. "I like the shoes. They match this" He touched the rhinestone buckle between my breasts and then moved up to cup me with his hands.

"Mmm… I saw the girls in the movie we watched wearing sexy shoes while they did it, and thought you may want to try."

"Oh yeah?" He was nuzzling and nipping at my neck and shoulders and I could tell that he liked the feel of my feathers on his cheeks. "Are you gonna keep your sexy shoes on tonight?"

"Anything you want. It's your present, you know, and I want it to be just what you've wished for. Did you like wearing your new shorts today?" I climbed over my husband to straddle him and leaned down, trying to show my little bit of cleavage. I rubbed my chest feathers on his face.

"It felt so good. I couldn't stop thinking about you, Baby, and wondering what you'd dreamed up for me tonight." His hands slid under the sheer portion of my top, to rub against the bare skin of my sides, my stomach, my back.

"Did you see _my_ underwear?" I backed up a little to sit high on my knees, still straddling his thighs, and lifted my top to show the tiny g-string panties that were the same sheer red material as the top.

Carlisle sucked in a sharp breath and moved his hands to my hips. "Those are tiny, and so sexy." He ran his hands along the elastic bands that circled my hips, and down the one they met in the back. "Mmm… you've never worn butt floss before. Is it comfortable?" he laughed.

I scrunched my nose. "Not really, but I could get used to it. It feels kind of sexy, rubbing against all my tingly places." Back in front, his hands followed the edges of the tiny sheer triangle until he felt the point where the fabric ended and the elastic began, directly between my legs.

"Oh… I'll rub your tingly places, Mrs. Claus." He shoved the tiny bit of fabric to the side and circled my opening with his finger, gathering moisture that he moved up to my clit. His face was buried in the sheer, silky fabric covering my belly, and I grasped his shoulders to maintain my balance as my wide-spread thighs began to shake with the pleasure that coursed through me. He moved his other hand from my butt to slide a finger inside me. We could hear the slippery slurping sound as he pumped it in and out.

"Oh, Ez, you're so wet." He added a second finger and curled them up to tickle the spot inside me that was extra sensitive. It took no time at all for the quick, precise movement of his long fingers to bring me to climax. As the hot, white light overtook me, my knees finally gave out. I sat down on his lap and was startled by the silky softness of his boxers. I ran my still-throbbing center up and down his silk-covered erection, which brought me to orgasm again.

"Ooooooooohhh Carlisle," I groaned. "Yes…. yes… YES!" I rolled off of him to take off the g-string, and I think I might have clipped him in the shin with my heel. _Oops!_

"Can you take the shoes off, Baby? We can try that again another time." I kissed him and sat up so I could lean over and unfasten the buckles. It took way too long. I was impatient to get back to him, but my fingers fumbled over the tiny little buckles.

"Argh!" I finally kicked the shoes off and raced back to Carlisle, yanking his silk shorts down and straddling him again. He sat up to reach my mouth with his, our tongues battling for dominance while his hands grasped my velvet-covered breasts and I rubbed myself along his rock-hard shaft. I kissed along his jaw to his ear, and then down his neck, my hands kneading his toned chest… his abs… his hips.

"Mmmmmm," he moaned as he felt the soft marabou trim that covered my chest and shoulders inch down his body, trailed by my massaging hands and wet kisses. The soft feathers reached his cock, and he groaned at the sensation. "Ohhhh Esme, Oh god!" I stayed there for a few minutes, caressing his cock up and down with my feather-covered cleavage, smiling as I watched him pop up through the marabou with each pass I made. I'd never anticipated that that part of my costume would be such a turn on for both of us. Eventually, I returned my lips to his hard abs, and continued my kissing trail down his body. After following his happy trail, I licked his full length, then took the mushroom tip into my mouth, swirling my tongue around it and teasing his slit. I sucked a couple of times, and then plunged my mouth down around him as far as I could go.

I didn't want to make him come, I just wanted to work him into a frenzy, so after a few more passes with my mouth, I crept up his body, feathery softness tickling him all the way up. After a few passionate kisses, I sat up, hands on his chest, and lined him up with my center. I plunged down onto him, riding him hard and fast. He slid my shoulder straps off, and pushed the velvet cups down to release my breasts so that he could tickle and tease my nipples and watch me bounce above him. I started to tire and slowed down, leaning back so that he hit me at a different angle inside, a heavenly angle. I stopped riding him up and down altogether and swiveled my hips in slow circles, round and round, enjoying the feeling of him filling me up and nudging my g-spot with each revolution. He took my hands, lacing our fingers together. I pressed my palms hard against his, happy for the leverage.

"Mmmmmm…" The intensity built. My breathing and heartbeat raced. And my entire body shook as I was overcome with bliss once again. As I moaned and panted through my recovery, I continued to swivel and gaze into Carlisle's eyes, sending him into ecstasy as well. His climax set me off for the fourth time tonight. This one was small, but—_Oh my god, FOUR?_ I slowed my swiveling hips to a stop, but stayed connected with my husband, caressing his chest and face with my hands. He ran his hands along my abdomen, feeling me through the soft, sheer fabric of my Mrs. Claus outfit. It was drenched in sweat, and the marabou trim was matted, reminding me of a wet dog.

"Merry Christmas, Sweetheart." I leaned down to give him a quick kiss. "I love you."

"I love you, too. Best. Present. Ever!"

We laughed and finally separated, heading for the bathroom to clean up and put on some dry pajamas. This fantasy basket thing may just work.

A/N

I know the movie Elf came out a lot later than 1990, but the department store scenario really happened when my son was 6, and it was too perfect not to use in the story. I hope you'll forgive a little artistic license. Esme appreciates it.

And now you know even more about the Fantasy Basket! What kinds of fantasies would you put in one?

Besotted... Thanks! (with a space).

Thanks for reading. I'd love to know what you think. Please leave a review. They make my day!

JEN

Twitter: JenEsmeFF

TFB Chapter 7 12 Rev. 11/20/11


	9. Chapter 8, Bella: The Passionista Party

**The Fantasy Basket**

**By JenEsme**

**Inspired by Stephenie Meyers' Twilight series. No infringement intended.**

**Chapter 8—Bella: The Passionista Party**

**Posted 6/6/12**

**Please Review!**

July 13-15, 2012

Edward was gone when I awoke the morning after our argument. Carlisle had gone with him to observe the procedure Edward was scheduled to do. Esme and I took Riley to the park on the beach in Del Mar and then browsed through the stores full of artsy home accessories and furniture at the South Cedros Street Design District. She's always on the lookout for unique items to decorate her clients' homes with, and it was impressive to see her in action, making contacts and negotiating with artists and store managers.

Esme is helping me decorate, so we picked up a few items for our house, too. It's great to have a successful interior designer in the family. I have no idea how to make our place look worthy of one of San Diego's up and coming heart surgeons. My mother Renee and I moved around a lot after she left my dad when I was little, following her ever-changing interests, jobs, and boyfriends. We never lived in one place long enough to decorate. My dad Charlie is the complete opposite of Renee, never moving, never changing a thing. The only change Charlie had made to his house in 20 years—the same little house in Phoenix he bought when he and Mom got married—was to replace my crib with a twin bed when I moved in with him in high school. It's more shabby than chic, definitely! I've learned that around here, especially in Edward's escalating social strata, you're expected to keep up appearances. It's intimidating, and makes the difference in our upbringing glaringly obvious.

We picked up Alice at University Town Center, the mall where she works, and headed across the street to Regents Pizza. It's a great little place near the condo that Edward and I lived in when we were first married. They have the best Chicago style pizza. Carlisle met us there for lunch. When he arrived, he rushed to Esme, proclaiming "He did it, Baby, he did it!" as he lifted her by the waist and spun around. Then he kissed her and gazed deeply into her eyes, hands holding both sides of her face. They just kept staring and the emotions on their faces kept changing. It's like they were having a conversation with no words. Alice and I watched them in disbelief, and then looked at each other, snickering and shifting uncomfortably, a little embarrassed to be intruding on their private moment. It seemed kind of odd to hear my very conservative and distinguished father-in-law call Esme 'Baby,' but as I watched them out of the corner of my eye, I began to think how wonderful it was that he still felt that way about her, even after a whole lifetime together. It gave me hope. After nearly a minute, another quick kiss finally broke their love trance and they scooted forward in the line to order lunch, big smiles on their faces.

As we ate our inch-high slices and salads, Carlisle was practically buzzing with excitement as he told us about the big, important surgery Edward had performed that morning. Apparently, it was the first complete procedure (outside of clinical trials) using a new technique and new technology that the cardiac surgery industry has been eagerly anticipating for years. It's the thing that got him recognized for the 30 Under 30 award, so I knew a little about what it was, though Edward hadn't told me that today's surgery was so significant. His success today was pretty high-profile for the whole team, which included Carlisle and a few others. It was an innovative new procedure—safer and more effective than the status quo—which he could publish articles about in medical journals and become known as an expert in. That would attract more patients and lots of money to the hospital, and could get Edward a huge promotion.

Carlisle further explained to Alice that this procedure was the culmination of an idea that he and a couple of partners had been researching and testing for almost 20 years, and which Edward had helped him work on during every summer vacation since he was fourteen. "People around the hospital used to joke and call him Doogie Houser," Carlisle mused, but that hands-on, professional level research and work during high school and college had enabled Edward to fast-track through undergrad, med school, his residency, and his surgical fellowship, and to achieve a level of success unprecedented in someone so young. Carlisle and Esme had timed their trip specifically so Carlisle could assist with the surgery and attend a conference where Edward would be speaking about it. They were so proud. I felt like a fool. I had no idea about any of this.

"How could he leave me in the dark about everything, Alice?" I vented in the bathroom. "I'm his wife, I live with him, and other than the fact that he was stressed out and acting like a total jerk last night, I had no idea that _this_ surgery was happening today. And the stuff with his dad? Oh my god, Alice! I knew his dad was his mentor and he worked for him when he was a kid, but…"

"Just calm down, Bella. Put a smile on your face, play along, and talk to him about it tonight when you're alone. You and I can call him an asshole, but you can't exactly say that to his parents, especially not right now, so just defer it until later, when you can rip him a new one privately." I love Alice. She tells it like it is.

After lunch, we headed home to put Riley down for his nap and make my house pretty with our new purchases. Hours later, when I heard the garage door rumble open, I rushed upstairs to change Riley's diaper, hiding from the 'couple time' I'm sure Esme wanted me to spend with Edward on the couch. What I had to say to him would take a lot more than 10 minutes, and would be best without an audience.

Edward arrived home excited and happy, to cheers and applause from his parents. I laughed when Esme put her fingers in her mouth and gave a loud whistle. Carlisle stood to give a toast at dinner:

"Here's to Edward, the second best heart surgeon I know of, on his momentous achievement. I've been waiting over twenty years for this day, and I'm so happy that my own son has taken the lead in bringing it to fruition. Not only did you save the first of thousands of lives with this procedure today, but you took a big step toward making a better life for yourself and your family. Enjoy your success, son. You deserve it. But don't let it consume your life. As you continue on this path, Edward, be sure to make time for the things that are most important, so they'll be there always to share it with you." Carlisle's eyes met mine with a wide smile. "I'm proud of you, son."

"Cheers!"

I hadn't seen Edward so happy and animated in a long time. As we got ready for bed in our huge master bathroom, (_who needs a bathroom this big? I swear it's bigger than the bedroom I had growing up!)_ I could tell that he wanted to celebrate. He leaned his shoulder against the doorframe of my walk in closet as I changed into the tank top and shorts I sleep in, shirtless and leering at me with a sexy smirk, hands in the pockets of his low slung drawstring sleep pants. I brushed past him through the door without acknowledgement, pulling my hair into a ponytail and leaning over the sink to wash my face. He moved to lean a hip against my sink and handed me a towel to dry my dripping face, brushing a stray tendril of my hair behind my ear, and dragging his fingers down the back of my neck. He turned to stand directly behind me, hands resting on the vanity to either side of me and watching in the mirror as I stood and applied toner, serum, eye cream, and moisturizer.

"Hey, Beautiful." He nuzzled my neck, placing light kisses along the curve of my neck and shoulder.

"Here, use this." I held out the eye cream and placed a squirt on his ring finger as he rolled his eyes at me through the mirror. "Don't give me that look, it'll keep those eyes of yours looking pretty." He complied, patting the lotion under his eyes with a huff, feeling emasculated as I brushed my teeth. He massaged my shoulders and kissed the top of my head as I brushed and spit out the toothpaste. As I leaned over to open the cabinet under the sink, he pulled my hips back into his, pressing his erection against my rear.

"Mmmm…" he groaned.

"Last night would have been better." I stood, holding up a tampon in one hand, a maxi pad in the other and walked toward the toilet room. "Today I got my period." His face fell and he walked over to his own sink.

He brushed his teeth while I did my business, and approached me as I crossed the room to wash my hands. "Well, we can do other stuff…" He circled his arms around my waist as I dried my hands, pulled me closer and started to kiss me with his minty clean mouth.

"No, Edward!" I glared at him as his expression changed from shock to understanding. He took a step away from me, hands outstretched in front of him, pleading as I leaned against my sink, arms crossed in front of me, frowning.

"Oh, Babe, is this about last night? Listen, I'm sorry I was such a jerk. I was so nervous about this procedure today, and I took it out on you." He ran his fingers through his hair in frustration and paced in front of me. "I didn't mean it. I never should have said those things." He pinched the bridge of his nose and then looked into my eyes. "Forgive me? Please, Bella?" He put his hands on my hips and kissed me with each phrase. "Can't we kiss and make up? Please? Hmm?"

I pushed him away from me, seething. "I can't believe that you didn't tell me about today." I stepped forward, poking him in the chest. "This was something important for you… for US…" I threw my hands up to my sides, fingers tense, "and I didn't know a damn thing about it." I ran my fingers over my hair, smoothing the wisps back toward the elastic they'd escaped from. "Your parents knew everything. They planned their trip around your surgery, for god's sake, and I knew NOTHING. I am your WIFE," pointing at myself, "and I knew NOTHING." I lifted my hands up in front of me, palms up, fingers splayed, my head cocked to one side.

Edward backed up and sat on the edge of the oversized spa tub _(stupid giant thing that we never use, but I have to clean)_, hands on his knees. "Bella, I've been talking to my dad about it for weeks… professionally… as a mentor. We're kind of partners on this, so of course he knew all about it. I guess he told my mom." Shrugging his shoulders.

"Exactly!" I paced. "He told his WIFE," I turned to face him, bending at the waist, my face inches from his, "about something that was important to him." I resumed pacing, arms flailing. "Do you know what a FOOL I felt like when Carlisle was bragging at lunch about how well you'd done and how this was going to do great things for your career?" I threw my arms up in the air in false adulation. "And how you'd get published and bring all this money to the hospital and yadda, yadda? Oooo!" I steamed, eyes slitted. "And then when he started telling Alice how this was the culmination of his life's work—his dream—that you'd been helping him with since you were a kid… Jeez, I had NO idea. Thank god Alice was there to play dumb and ask the questions that I should have known the answers to. Do you have any idea how humiliating that was? How could you not share this with me?" I slapped my hands against his bare chest. "I can't believe… I just can't…" Tears filled my eyes, threatening to spill out.

"Oh, come on. You've known about that."

"No, not really." I shook my head, frowning. "I had some vague idea of something your dad was mentoring you on. Some "big, long term project," but nothing specific. It always sounded like hero worship to me. I didn't know it was anything real. Other than the little bit of information I dragged out of you for the 30 Under 30 benefit, I'm pretty much in the dark about anything you do." I turned to face him and crossed my arms in front of my chest.

"That's bullshit."

My eyes narrowed. "Right. It's bullshit. Because I'm a mindreader or something, right?" I resumed my pacing, pulling the elastic from my hair and throwing it on the vanity so that I could press my fingers against the throbbing in my head. I'm just supposed to know everything there is to know about the amazing Edward Cullen, whether you tell me or not?" I turned toward him and threw my hands in the air. "Here's a newsflash, Edward. You never tell me ANYTHING anymore. You hardly talk to me at ALL." I leaned against my sink, massaging my headache.

"Yeah? Well, it's not for lack of trying." He stood up and started pacing himself. "I'm lucky to get HALF of your attention, much less a full conversation. Like last night on the couch: I was telling you about the surgery—how important it was and how stressed out it was making everybody—and you just jumped up and left when Riley came in, like I wasn't even talking. Like I wasn't there at all."

"He was hurt!"

"Dad had him. He was fine."

"Yeah, well your dad isn't usually here."

"That's right. Make excuses and then blame _me_ for everything." He shook his head and crossed the room to his walk in closet, reaching for some clean running clothes. "I have to go for a run. Clear my head."

"Of course," I muttered under my breath. "Run away, just like you always do."

He looked up from tying his shoe and glared at me. "Bella… Don't!" He looked down to tie the other one and said, without looking at me, "I was so happy tonight. It was one of the best days of my life. _The_ best of my career." He grabbed his Nano and looked up at me before clipping it on. "And all I wanted to do—all day—was come home and celebrate with you." He snorted and left the room. Left me conflicted.

I looked at myself in the mirror as my thoughts battled it out.

_I'm such a bitch._

_No, remember how you felt today at lunch? He's a dick for not telling you ANYTHING! _

_But maybe he's right. Maybe I just didn't listen enough. _

_Oh, Puh-lease. Stick up for yourself, would you?_

_But I feel awful for ruining his great day. He was in such a good mood until I…_

_Argh!_

I ran downstairs to take something for my headache. When I returned, I knew I wouldn't be able to sleep, so I grabbed the cleanser and started scrubbing the shower to try to take my mind off of it. I just needed something—anything—to distract me. It didn't work right away, so I cleaned my way through the whole master bathroom until my mind was numb. At least I didn't cry.

I was wiping his sink and rearranging the stuff he keeps on the vanity when he returned, breathing hard and glistening with sweat. Edward looked at me in the mirror for a moment before putting his hands on my shoulders and kissing me on the temple. He retreated without a word to his closet, peeling off his sweaty clothes and his running shoes. I put the cleaning supplies away on a high shelf in my closet while he took a quick shower, and we found ourselves in the same position as earlier: he sat on the edge of the tub and I stood before him. Edward sighed and pulled me to stand between his knees, arms around my waist, forehead resting on my chest. I removed my hands from my hips, running them through his hair and onto his shoulders while taking a deep breath before pushing away from him. I stood across the room facing away from him, arms crossed and the knuckles of one hand toying with my bottom lip.

He puffed his cheeks and blew out a breath, ran his hands through his hair, and looked over at me. "I should've told you more… sooner." He stood, walked across the room, and lifted my hands to kiss them. "I always try to keep work issues at work, to leave the stress there instead of bringing it home to you and Riley, but I guess I… Well, obviously, I took it too far." He bent his head down to try to make eye contact, but I stared straight ahead at his chest, focused on the two little moles he has just under his right pec. Two traitorous tears spilled from my eyes. He lifted my chin with his fingers to look at him.

"This whole project is something you should have known more about, and I apologize for keeping it from you. It wasn't intentional. I honestly thought I had told you more than I did. I thought you knew." He caressed my cheek and left his hand on the side of my head, "I'm sorry." He lifted his other hand to my face, leaned in to kiss my forehead, and ran his fingers through my hair to brush it away from my face. He wiped my tears with his thumbs. Looking back into my eyes, I could see his forehead wrinkled in a look of remorse.

I sniffed. "I'm sorry I yelled at you and ruined your great day."

I looked down to break from his gaze as he leaned his back against the wall and moved his arms to my shoulders. "This isn't the only time, though, Edward. This isn't just about your project or this surgery. We used to be so close, but now I feel like I don't even know you anymore. I'm scared that I'm losing you." I darted my eyes up to his for just a moment, long enough to see the fear and anguish he held there.

He shook his head and cupped my face. "No! That can't happen. We can't let that happen. I need you too much." He bent down to kiss my forehead and started to pull me into a hug, which I thwarted by twisting out of his grasp.

"It already _is_ happening, Edward. Love doesn't die all at once, it just gradually wears away until there's nothing left. Can't you see that happening already? I don't want to turn into one of those women around here. Their lives are so void and lonely, and they just fill them up with shopping and gossip. Their husbands buy them stuff to make up for ignoring them all the time. That's not the life I want. I don't want you to work harder to buy a bigger house or more stuff. I just want more of _you_."

His knees bent and he slid down the wall until he was sitting on the floor, elbows resting on his bent knees. He picked at something on his thumb, keeping his eyes off me. "Is that why you've been talking to my mom?" he asked, quietly.

I nodded and sniffed.

"That makes me really, really uncomfortable." He took a deep, shuddering breath, nervous to tell me that.

"Why? Edward, they can tell that something's not right with us, even if we don't say anything. They're worried about us. About you. And she just wants to help."

He buried his face in his hands. "Yeah. Well, that didn't work out so well the last time."

"What?"

He shook his head, trying to block out the memory. "Ancient history."

"Oh." I answered, sheepishly. "Will you tell me about it?" He had never shared much about past relationships. Neither of us had.

He gave me a pained look. "Not tonight, ok? But sometime I will." I nodded. _Sure, we'll see if that ever happens_. He shook his head and muttered, "Jeez, Mom…"

I thought about losing Esme if Edward and I ever split up. Then I reminded myself of her no dumping rule and smiled. "I don't want to lose her as a mother-in-law, so you have to be nice to me. At least until this big stupid house is done." I joked through my tears, trying to lighten the mood since I'd made my point.

He looked up at me and chuckled. "So you'll put up with me as long as she's part of the package?"

"Yeah," I nodded with a watery smile. "She's pretty great."

"I think you're pretty great."

"Well why don't you tell me once in awhile, you big jerk?" I extended my hand to help pull him up to his feet and pretended to smack him in the chest. "You can take a break from saving the world, can't you, Superman?"

"I couldn't save it without you, Lois." He draped his arm around my shoulder and gave it a squeeze as I flicked off the light and we crossed through the sitting area to the bedroom.

Suddenly serious, I turned toward him and implored, "Just put me first Edward, ok? Kiss me first when you get home, look into my eyes at least once a day, tell me what you're thinking, what you're feeling. Ok? I need that. Every day."

"I will. I promise. I love you." He held both my hands in his and gazed deeply into my eyes.

I was the first to break eye contact, looking down and then quickly back up into his eyes. "I love you, too."

We lay down together, his head on my belly, an arm slung over my waist as I ran my fingers through his hair and rubbed his neck and shoulders until we drifted off to sleep.

Edward woke me the next morning before leaving for work. "Good morning." He kissed my forehead and ran his fingers through my hair, sitting on the side of the bed. When I opened my eyes, he looked into them deeply, "Hi."

"Hi." I rubbed my eyes, gritty with sleep, and my cheeks, tight with last night's salty tears and squinted into my husband's face, still adjusting to the morning light.

"I've got to get going. Are we ok?"

"Yeah," I croaked in my scratchy morning voice. "We will be." I reached up to stroke his cheek "Let's take your folks up on their offer to watch Ri this week so we can go talk somewhere, ok?"

"Anything." He leaned down to kiss me again and smiled softly. As he headed for the door, I called out, "Alice's party is tonight…"

"I know. I'll be home early so you can get there on time. I'm actually at a conference today with Dad. I'm presenting."

"Oh, that explains the tie. You look nice. Break a leg!"

"Thanks. I love you, Bell." And with a smile he was gone.

Esme and I took Riley to his weekly playgroup at the park. After the accolades from all the moms about his birthday died down, conversation turned to Alice's Passionista party. The ladies were abuzz,

"I can't wait to see everything in person. It's so hard to tell from a web site."

"My sister went to a Passionista party and said she learned a lot. The consultant was really helpful and answered lots of questions she never thought to ask. It's a great way to see everything, much less embarrassing than…"

"What kind of party is this, exactly?" I wondered. I thought "Fashionista" would be some sort of clothing line, or accessories, or jewelry or something.

"Didn't you click the link on the e-vite and check out their catalog, Bella?"

I shook my head. I had been so busy with all the birthday party stuff that I barely had a chance to check my email last week.

"Mama, swing!" As the ladies tittered nervously at my ignorance, I relieved Esme from Riley-duty, glad for the escape and further embarrassment. _What in the world_…

At home, I put Riley down for his nap and checked email as Esme hung some art on a wall and rearranged my bookshelves. I clicked the link from Alice's e-vite and was looking, shocked, at the Passionista (with a "P") web site, when Esme came up behind me. "The Rabbit is great. Get the waterproof one."

"Oh my gosh, Esme, did you know what this party tonight was going to be?"

"Of course. I've been to a few before. My neighbor hosts them all the time. It will be a great place to get some things for your Fantasy Basket. See, they have lingerie, costumes, props… everything you need. I've even heard that now they sell some Fantasy Baskets all made up with everything you need—Quick and simple!" Her eyes twinkled deviously.

"Esme, I don't know if I can do that. It's really not my style." And I really didn't feel up to it tonight, after our fight.

She looked at me thoughtfully. "You've been quiet. Is everything all right?" I shifted nervously and shrugged, not willing to share my troubles with Edward's mother.

She took my face in her hands. "Make the choice, Honey, even when you don't feel like he deserves know that neither of you is going anywhere, except out for a long dinner and a talk tomorrow night where you can start to work things out. And for now just push those negative thoughts right out of your head so you can relax and have fun tonight."

I took a deep breath. "He's mad at me for talking to you about stuff. He said you scared off an old girlfriend or something. He's going to freak out about this." I clicked on the page labeled "for him," and stared, trying to figure out what some of those things were used for.

"Really?" She pursed her lips. "Well, girl talk is girl talk. He doesn't need all the details. You can be vague when you tell him about tonight. Just share the parts that he'll like. And as for Jayne," she rolled her eyes, "she needed running off. She was bad news."

_Jane, huh?_ "Esme, it's not just him, it's me, too. I'm very private. I'm just not comfortable sharing… or even thinking about these kinds of things." I tilted my head toward the monitor and grimaced at the pictures of vibrators and… well, I had no idea what some of those items were. I'm sure my face was bright red. I minimized the window and was flashed with the huge wallpaper picture of Riley's face—quite a contrast!

Esme looked at me thoughtfully. "You haven't been friends with Alice for long, have you?"

"No," I replied, confused at the change of subject. "We just met last month. She helped me find an outfit for Edward's 30 Under 30 thing and we hit it off, like we'd been friends forever." I shut down the computer and we moved to the kitchen where I poured some milk in a sippy cup for Riley to drink after his nap.

"I think she's going to be good for you. She's such a doll, and has so much self-confidence. I think she'll help you really open up and embrace the wonderful woman that you are, Bella." Now I was definitely red. "Have you ever met my friend Siobhan?"

"She's the O'Leary from Cullen O'Leary Design, right?"

Esme nodded. "It's good to have a close friend who will push you past your comfort zone once in a while. She did that for me. Still does, sometimes!"

"Maybe. I've always been pretty quiet and Alice seems pretty blunt. It's kind of nice to have a shiny new BFF." We laughed. "I don't know about this party, though."

"Bella, it's going to be fun. Isn't there _something_ you've been curious about but were too shy to ask? Or too shy to _try_?"

My face heated up even more.

"That's what I thought. There's no need to be embarrassed. Just go with an open mind. I bet you'll learn something. Your husband will thank you for it."

"No… He's pretty conservative…"

"I know. Edward always was kind of quiet. He didn't have many girlfriends, but he is a man."

"I know, but he's never…"

"Trust me on this. If YOU initiate something new, something exciting, he will love it. He may never do it himself but if you do, I bet he'll play along."

"Why me?" _Why me, indeed. And why this conversation? Please kill me now before she goes into detail about the depraved things I should do to her son. Oh my god…_

"It doesn't make you bad, Bella, it makes you normal. It makes you a good wife who wants to please her husband and who wants to be pleased herself by keeping things fresh and exciting."

I swallowed and shifted nervously, closing the refrigerator and moving to the family room, where I sat on the couch, hugging my knees to my chest. _I'm ready to crawl into a hole and die now!_

"I know it's a difficult subject. It certainly was for me. But I found that the Fantasy Basket really helped introduce things that were hard for both of us to talk about. Not just physical things, but other topics that were difficult to approach, too. It was this, kind of, anonymous entity that took the rap for bringing up embarrassing subjects. Sometimes Carlisle's eyes would be as wide as saucers when he read one of the fantasies. And he told me once that he was afraid of what would be in there. I'd just say, 'but Sweetheart, it was so hard to come up with enough ideas for a whole year, I had to put a little of everything in.'" I nodded, wide-eyed. "Sometimes we'd burst out laughing at how ridiculous we felt." She smiled at a memory. "And we could always say 'no' if either of us was uncomfortable. Or we could compromise and meet halfway. But it was a great way to try some new things, be someone new for a little while. No matter how the fantasies led us to behave, whether it was playful or sweet or sensual or dark or dirty, it was always loving, and intimate, and together. It was something we shared that was very private and personal."

"So why are you telling me about it?"

"Because it's the best gift I ever gave him, or myself. It helped us so much, and we want to help you kids. And I'm NOT planning to share the details!"

"Thank god for that!" we laughed. Then I cringed at the reminder that she knew of our problems. "Carlisle knows about Edward and me?" I asked as I bit my lip.

"Honey, we tell each other everything. And even if we didn't, he sees it in Edward. It'll never get better if you don't start talking to each other, Bella. The Fantasy Basket can help you two, but that's only half of the equation."

I nodded in resignation, "Yeah, I guess." _Our talk last night sure wasn't fun_.

We heard Riley on the baby monitor, so I excused myself to go get him from his room. The guys arrived home as I descended the stairs with Ri on my hip, gulping from his sippy cup.

Esme greeted Carlisle with a kiss, "Hi Sweetheart, what a treat to have you boys home early! How was your conference? Learn anything new?"

Carlisle explained that the conference was mostly same-old, same-old. "But there was one hot-shot young cardiologist who presented on a breakthrough technique that just earned FDA approval. He included some data from a surgery performed only yesterday. Quite the up-and-comer. I'll have to keep my eye on him." He grinned with a punch to Edward's shoulder.

"Is that right?" Esme played along, "Sounds like he may give you a run for your money, Grandpa. You'd better stay on your toes or you may just be replaced as the hottest heart surgeon in America." Carlisle was a bit of a celebrity doctor. The networks loved to call on his expert opinion whenever someone notable had heart surgery. Esme reached up to kiss Edward's cheek and ruffle his already messy hair. He flashed me his sexy crooked smile over his mom's head and took my hand, leaning in for a kiss.

"You'd better watch your back also, number two. Sounds like someone's out to de-throne the Cullen boys," I warned.

"Smart Alec," he laughed with a swat to my ass. Esme quirked an eyebrow at me and turned away with a knowing smile.

"Well boys," she said, backing away from the table after a quick dinner, "we've got a party to get to. Think you two superstars can manage without us for a couple of hours? We may just bring something special home for you."

"Go, go!" Carlisle took her plate to clear it for her and rushed her toward the door with a kiss to the top of her head.

"What's that all about?" Edward asked

"I'll tell you later. Better yet, why don't you ask your dad?" I smirked.

As we pulled into Alice's condo complex, I sighed. "Two kid-free outings in one week? This is heaven. You guys can never leave, ok?"

Esme laughed. "Listen, Bella? Tonight let's just be friends and try to forget about how we're related, ok?"

"Hmm. Ok." _What's that all about?_

Alice's door was open, so we opened the screen and came right in. "Yoo hoo! Ali—let's get this party started!"

"Oh, hi!" We were greeted by a tall, faux-chested bleach-blonde who was pretty, but seemed to try too hard—typical for San Diego. "Alice ran to get changed. She's going to model one of our outfits tonight. I'm Lauren, with Passionista." She held her hand out to shake ours. "Have you ever been to one of our parties before?"

"Hi Lauren, I'm Bella and this is my mother-in-l… uh, my _friend,_ Esme. And no, I didn't even know what your company did until this morning."

"Well hi Bella, Esme. I'm so glad you could make it."

"Hi Lauren," Esme answered, "I've been to a few parties up in Seattle where I live. My neighbor, Shelly Cope, is a consultant. She has one of your company BMWs, so she must be doing well."

"You know Shelly Cope? Wow! I listen to her online trainings all the time. Please tell her hello, I'm a great admirer." Lauren was so excited. It's like Esme's neighbor was a celebrity or something. "Say, is her house as fabulous as they say it is?"

"I like to think so," Esme smirked.

"So Esme, I'm sure you've got several of our fun products. Bella, do you have any toys?"

"Well, I have a two year old, so we have toys everywhere." I hadn't really been paying attention, my eyes diverted to the disturbing display on Alice's coffee table, so I didn't get what she was really asking. Call me dense!

"Ha ha ha. I don't think you'd want your two year old playing with _these_ toys! I'm talking about toys for you and your husband," she pretended to whisper, hand raised to her mouth. "That's a gorgeous ring, by the way. Look at that rock!"

I felt my face turn bright red. "Um, thanks, and uuuuuh, no, we don't have any grown up toys, unless you count our Wii or our sailboat."

"Ha—I like you, Bella. We're going to have a blast tonight."

"Actually, Lauren," Esme interjected, "I've been recommending that Bella introduce a Fantasy Basket into their marriage. Things get so much harder once kids enter the picture, you know."

"Esme, please…"

"Shelly did a training about those when Passionista first introduced them. It's a great idea, especially as a gift."

"Well, the original one was a gift. I told her about the one I made for my husband for Christmas about twenty years ago, and she took the idea and ran with it. Apparently, they have spread like wildfire through your company. I uhm…" Wait, Esme was bashful about something? "…I actually copyrighted the Fantasy Basket concept and worked with Shelly to license it out to you, so I get a nice little royalty check from Passionista once in awhile."

Lauren gasped. "Oh my god, Esme. Are you serious? You _created_ The Fantasy Basket?"

"Oh, it's nothing… Anyway, tonight we want to focus on getting Bella all set up." I looked at her in shock. "Don't worry Bella, we won't try to embarrass you. We'll be very discreet," Esme promised.

"Bella, you are lucky to have such a cool mother-in- uh, friend! And you definitely have nothing to worry about. My business exists because nice girls like us want a safe, private place to learn more about these kinds of things. (nice girls like _her_?) This will be fun and painless, I promise! Esme, I'd love to show you a couple of our newest baskets. This one is great for beginners…"

They wandered off to the table to look at the scary assortment as Alice entered, wearing a French maid's costume. "Bonjour madame!" She shook her feather duster at me. After picking my jaw up off the floor, I whispered, "I can't believe my mother-in-law is a sex toy entrepreneur and is over there talking about my love life with her son to a total stranger." Alice giggled. "Lauren's right, you know, Esme is way-cool. Jasper's mom is such a prude that she almost passed out with embarrassment when we showed her our honeymoon photos. I mean, pictures of the beach and the ocean and stuff, not the bed! Esme is awesome, You're so lucky!"

More guests arrived and the party got underway, Lauren passing around all kinds of books and DVDs, candles and lotions, costumes and props, and vibrators. All sorts of vibrators. She assured us they had never been used, but they still made me squeamish. I flipped through the catalog so I wouldn't have to look at the real things and there it was.

"Oh my god, Esme! This chair that Riley likes to play on and slide down is a SEX CHAIR?" I had always thought that wavy, undulating chair in the retreat off her master bedroom was some arty, high fashion piece of designer furniture, yet here it was in the Passionista catalog, with the models demonstrating many different ways of… um… enjoying it.

"It's lots of fun to play on, no matter how old you are." I felt like I was going to be sick. "Bella, I clean it every time, don't worry. It's really no different from him climbing around on your bed. It's just a piece of furniture."

"Here, Bella, I think you need a drink." Alice handed me a glass of wine.

Lauren continued, "So, Esme, I'm really excited to have you with us here tonight. Ladies, this is the creator of the Fantasy Basket, which is one of our top sellers. Would you mind telling us what Fantasy Baskets are and a little about how you came up with the idea for them?"

A murmur of excitement and interest went through the group of guests.

"That's right!" Esme blushed. "The Fantasy Basket idea actually helped save my marriage. It all happened about 20 years ago, pre-internet, and before home parties like this existed, so I didn't have nearly as much information or as many products as we do now, but at the time I had two boys in grade school, and an extremely busy and stressed out husband who was so focused on his career that I was feeling pretty neglected and worried about our future. He's an attractive guy in a high profile job and…

Alice interrupted, "Come on, Esme, don't be so modest. He is gorgeous, and a heart surgeon, and… well, more than just an attractive guy."

"Alice, jeez!" I hushed her.

"Well, like I said… I trusted him but I felt that if things continued on as they were—the complacency, the boredom—he'd have ample opportunity to stray, and I was determined to fight for him, to keep the homefires lit and never let them burn out. I'd even gotten up the nerve to go to a porn shop for a few items to spice things up, but we rarely found time to use them. I was lucky if we were intimate once a month!" A general nod of understanding went through the crowd. "So, for Christmas one year, he unwrapped a pair of silky boxers with a note saying that I knew how hard Santa had been working and that Mrs. Claus would meet him in the bedroom that night to help him unload his big, heavy package…" She fluttered her eyelashes.

"Ahh… TMI, TMI," I cringed. Alice and the other guests laughed and Alice whispered to them that Esme was my mother-in-law. _So much for our deception_.

"I met him there that night in my Santa negligee and black stilettos with a basket full of little presents and a grab bag full of notes. The first note promised to meet him there every Tuesday night of the year to play out a fantasy. He was supposed to wear some of his sexy new underwear every Tuesday morning and choose one of the notes, so he could think about his fantasy all day long and then play it out at night."

"What kinds of things were on the notes, Esme?" Lauren prompted.

"Well, it was hard to think of 52 things. My girlfriend helped me brainstorm, and I think we made it to about 40-45, so I invited him to add some of his own and I added more throughout the year as I thought of things. I included everything from a bubble bath and massage to exploring each of the five senses, to every kind of roleplay and costume I could think of, to a little taste of domination/submission. I included some that we could do when I had my period, too, and I printed those on a different color paper for the grab bag.

"Like what?" one of Alice's neighbors asked.

"It's actually ok to have sex during your cycle," Lauren interjected. "Just use a towel to protect your sheets. There's nothing harmful. We have these really handy wipes to keep nearby to clean things up."

"I know, but…" Esme crinkled her nose in disgust and shook her head no, "…not our thing. Anyway, things I included for that time of the month were…" she thought for a second, "Oh let's see—a cum shot, a candy cane, cleavage sex, tantric gaze…"

"Oh my god, Esme, is that what you guys were doing at the pizza place? It's like you guys were in a trance!"

Esme raised her eyebrows and smiled. "Oh, no. That was different. That was… pride, accomplishment, fulfillment of a dream." She bit her lip and looked down, trying to contain her emotions.

She shook her head and returned her attention to the party guests. "Sorry. The idea behind the Fantasy Basket was that all day every Tuesday he would be physically reminded of me by the silk shorts, as well as mentally reminded of me by anticipating the fantasy for that night. I was thinking of him during the day as well, as I planned and prepared for our evening rendezvous. So, by implementing these fantasies just one day a week to start, we were eventually able to change our whole relationship. We were focusing our minds on each other, we were increasing the frequency and improving the quality and variety of our physical connection, and the great talks we had before and after our lovemaking helped us improve communication with each other, which carried over to other times of day as well. It really helped make us stronger as a couple. And now, we're more in love than ever, after 39 years of marriage."

"It's true." I noted. "You should see them. They are adorable. So lovey dovey! That's one of the first things I noticed when Edward took me home to meet them—they were so in love with each other. I knew it was a great thing that he'd grown up with that kind of example. When I met his folks I knew for sure that he was good marriage material."

"As if being a rich, brilliant doctor who plays the piano and happens to be smokin' hot wasn't enough to convince you?" Alice declared.

I blushed.

"We Cullens," Esme added from behind me, giving my shoulder a squeeze, "are very, very lucky women." I smiled and nodded, wondering why the guests laughed.

"Alice, what's so funny?" I whispered, as Lauren took over the presentation, showing off the Fantasy Baskets offered by her company.

"Very lucky women," she repeated, holding her index fingers up about nine inches apart.

"Esme," I gasped and turned to face her. "You didn't!" Jeez, there were people there from Riley's playgroup.

"Hmm?" she asked, innocently as she walked toward the kitchen to refill her drink. "Would you like a refill?"

Somehow I made it through the evening without dying of embarrassment. I eventually managed to relax a little, so that I could enjoy the party and learn a few new things. With Esme's and Alice's prompting, I wound up purchasing the Deluxe Fantasy Basket, which included everything I would need for '52 Nights of FANTAStic Sex!' Esme threatened to buy it for Edward for his birthday in two weeks if I didn't, so I gave in. I also got some strawberry flavored lubricant and a waterproof Rabbit, which Alice insists is an 'accessory that no woman's bedside table should be without.' _Holy crow!_ I don't even want to know what was in Esme's bag, but she and Carlisle didn't waste any time saying good night and heading upstairs after we got home. Edward and I snuggled down for the night, tired and still a little tentative after our fight. I was a bit traumatized myself, and didn't want to stir up his apprehensions about revealing too much to Esme, so when he asked about the party, I vaguely answered as I massaged his neck and shoulders, "It was a fun girls' night out. Thanks for giving me two in one week, sweet husband of mine."

"Mmm." He'd melted from the back rub. I kissed him and settled down to sleep, hand on his chest, foot trapped between his calves, smile on my face.

* * *

**A/N**

6/6/12: Some of you lovely readers have been leaving reviews, tweeting, and recommending The Fantasy Basket around the fandom. Thank you so much! I love hearing what you think and I'm grateful for each and every one. I only wish there were more. 149 in 7 chapters. At the current rate, when the story is complete, it will have received fewer than 400 reviews. Hmmm… (Can you sense my lagging confidence?)

Although this past weekend I was not able to reply to reviews, I do read and will answer each one, typically on Saturdays. My apologies for the past weekend. We were camping with my sons' Cub Scout Pack (and I was gathering material for the new story I have outlined: The CubMaster. It's a Carlisle & Esme story about second chances with a little teenage Edward & Bella romance mixed in.) I'll catch up next weekend. Promise!

Thanks to Besotted. She helps me not worry about the numbers—just the story.

Thanks for reading, reviewing, & rec'ing!

JEN


	10. Chapter 9, Esme: New Year, New Troubles

**The Fantasy Basket**

**By JenEsme**

**Inspired by Stephenie Meyers' Twilight series. No infringement intended.**

**Chapter 9—Esme: New Year, New Troubles**

**Posted June 13, 2012**

**Please Review!**

January 1991

_I love New Years. I sit late at night, all alone, assessing the year that has passed and imagining the one that is to come. I write it all in a journal—it's the only entry most years. As I sat in my favorite red chair pondering the close of 1990, I looked back at last year's entry and was pleased at how far Carlisle and I had come. Last year, I'd been so hopeless, so desperate, so lonely, seeking refuge and escape from my own life. This year, while things still aren't perfect—far from it—my outlook on life is so much more optimistic. Carlisle and I are just so much more… present in each other's lives. We talk and make time to be together, do nice things to surprise each other and really listen to what the other has to say. We show affection by touching and looking into each other's eyes and kissing or hugging or just holding hands once in awhile. It's really, really nice. _

_As an added benefit, while my relationship with Carlisle has improved, so have my other relationships and my general outlook on things. I'm much happier overall, which makes me a better mom and a better friend. I'm feeling a lot more confident in myself as well. One of the goals I wrote down in the "Self Improvement" column, besides the typical annual goals for more exercise, weight loss, and eating better, is "find a meaningful job or volunteer work where I can use my creativity and make a difference or contribution." It's a tall order, I know, and I have no idea what I really would like to be doing, but with both boys in school now and most of the goals in my "Home Improvements" column already met, I just want to make myself a better person. I want to contribute more to my family, be a more interesting person… It's funny, and completely counter to any feminist tendencies, but I want to be a better person for _him_. _

_OK, the ball dropped over an hour ago and I'm starting to sound sappy, even to myself, so I'd better get to bed. _

I tiptoed into our room and tried to sneak into bed without disturbing my husband, but I couldn't resist leaning over to give him a New Year's kiss. He couldn't care less about New Years**'s** parties or resolutions and goes to bed at 10:00, just like any other night, but I'm a sucker for the tradition and sentimentality. He celebrates by opening up a brand new date book and flipping through the blank pages with a big smile on his face, like he did yesterday. I was so happy when he took up a pen (not a pencil, a pen) and wrote in a date night for the two of us every other week for the entire year. I smiled at the memory and kissed him gently on his temple. "Happy New Year, Sweetheart." He surprised me when he rolled toward me, half awake. "Sorry. I didn't mean to wake you."

"You didn't. I couldn't get to sleep without you. I've gotten used to having you here again." I smiled at that. "Whatcha been doin'?" he mumbled while pulling me into his arms, cradling my head to his chest.

"Just thinking about the past year and planning things for the next year. I do that every New Year's Eve."

"Hmmm." He caressed my shoulder. As it slowed, I could tell he was drifting into sleep.

"I'm so glad we're happier now, Sweetheart. This will be a great year, I just know it." I don't know if he could feel the tear dribble onto his chest, but he gave me a squeeze, said, "My Ezzy," and I could feel his lips curl into a smile where they rested on top of my head as he sailed off to dreamland.

The kids were back to school after their Christm… I mean, Winter Break (_darn PC movement!_) and I headed back to the gym. My step class had about twice as many people as usual. Happens every year—all the New Year's resolutions. It's sadly humorous to observe how long it takes for the numbers to dwindle back down to normal. Most years, the room is packed the first two weeks of January. Then, after two or three weeks about half the new people are gone. And by mid-February, we're back to our core group of regulars with maybe a handful of new folks.

I've been coming to the gym three days a week pretty consistently since Emmett started kindergarten. I love the music and camaraderie in class. I tried jogging before I joined the gym—I ran with Carlisle for awhile, but he wanted to run faster and farther than I could, and I felt bad for slowing him down. Then I tried jogging alone but even with my Walkman it was just _so boring_! Not my cup of tea at all. Classes at the gym are so much more fun. They are even more fun now that my best friend Carmen is back. Her baby Gianna is six months old, so she can finally leave her in the childcare center downstairs while we work out and shower. The time this class meets is perfect for me and lots of other moms. It starts a half hour after I drop the boys off at school, and since I dress in my gym clothes those mornings, packing my clothes and toiletries in my gym bag, I have an incentive to go to class: if I don't work out, I'm stuck with dirty hair and sloppy gym clothes all day. It may be a silly way to motivate myself, but it gets me there. If my granny taught me anything, it was to always take pride in myself by looking my best, so schlepping around in sweats is NOT something I will do.

My step class is great. They introduced it a couple of years ago. It's really fun and it challenges my brain and body more than regular aerobics (a.k.a, "duh-robics"). Over the years, I've developed friendships with many of the other people who take the class, mostly full time moms like me, and with our instructor Irina. She's awesome. She's got so much energy and enthusiasm. I love that she's in her 30s with kids like most of us in her class. She understands sore knees and stiff backs and sleepless nights spent with babies or sick kids and she can relate to her students better than the bouncy 22 year old drill sergeant who taught the old aerobics class.

We were having fun in class today, though it was kind of slow and simplified for all the new people. I could tell that Irina wasn't 100% today. Something was off. She usually introduces a new routine on Mondays, which she didn't. She missed some calls, got off beat a couple of times, and even tripped during _Pump Up The Jam_, which is very unlike her. And her energy level was low today. She's usually such a dynamo. It was nothing the new people would notice, but when Carmen quirked her eyebrow at me and nodded toward Irina during a water break, and when my friend Lisa muttered, "What's up with Irina?" I knew I wasn't imagining it. The three of us held back after class until the crowd cleared out and Irina had answered everyone's questions. We approached and asked how she was doing, how her Christmas was, etc. She tried to hide what was wrong, but when I put my hand on her arm and asked, "Is everything ok? Are you sure you're all right?" she darted her eyes around the room to make sure it was just the four of us and then hung her head in her hands.

"No, I got some really bad news over the holidays. I'm sorry, I just couldn't focus today." She was close to tears.

"Oh, Irina, don't worry about the class. What's wrong? Is there anything we can do to help?"

"I don't know, I just… I…" She looked up at us with tears in her eyes and sniffed, "Both my mom and my older sister were diagnosed with breast cancer last month. When I went back east for Christmas, they told all of us about it. They're going in together for their first chemo treatment today, so I'm kind of a basket case."

Gasp.

"Oh my god!"

"Both of them?"

"Oh, Irina…" We were all shocked to hear our friend's sad news and supportive as she relayed more details. I asked what she was doing for the rest of the day, thinking that she may not want to be alone. She had a couple of hours free and another class in the afternoon, so I asked if she'd like to join me for lunch. The other girls have small children and had to get home for naps, so it was just Irina and me. As we ate, she told me all about her family and shared some happy memories, trying not to worry and dwell on the current situation. She was terrified, knowing that she must be genetically inclined to contract the disease as well. I just listened and tried to be a good, supportive friend, feeling terrible for her and her family. We parted with a big hug and her promise to keep me posted and call if she needed a shoulder to cry on. Poor thing. I can't imagine…

I drove home in a daze. I knew cancer was out there everywhere; I'd had acquaintances before who had gotten sick, but for some reason, this news really affected me. Maybe because Irina's a friend. Maybe because it hit two of her family members at once. Maybe because her sister is about my age. I don't know, but I was really shaken and depressed.

When I got home I saw several messages blinking on my answering machine. There are usually one or two, but today there were six. _oh oh_! One was from a friend confirming our carpool arrangements, and two were telemarketers—no big deal. But two were from the boys' school about an hour ago and one was from Carlisle's office, which the school called when they couldn't reach me. _Oh shoot_! Edward had gotten into a fight at school and was developing a black eye. He'd been sent to the nurse and then the counselor's office and they wanted someone to come and pick him up early. _Poor baby, sitting there waiting!_ I called the school back right away to let them know I was on my way there, and called Carlisle's office to let them know the situation was taken care of. Carlisle had been in a surgery, so the office assistant for his surgical group had taken the call from the school and then left me the message. _Good. I'd hate to have him stressed out at work about Edward being hurt or about me being MIA_.

I picked Edward up at school and got the full story from the counselor. He's been having trouble with a little boy in his class named Jacob Black all year, and today they fought over a tetherball game on the playground. Jacob gave Edward a black eye and Edward gave Jacob a bruised shin before the noon-duty teachers were able to intervene.

There's no excuse for bullying and fighting, but in Jacob's case, his behavior problems are at least understandable. He lost his mom to a drunk driver about a year ago. His dad Billy is wheelchair-bound from the accident and had to go on disability from his job. Billy is having a lot of trouble managing his injuries and his three children all alone. It's such a tragic story. Carlisle had helped operate on Jacob's mother, but the injuries were too extensive to save her. He's trained not to take his patients' outcomes personally, but since Jacob and Edward were good friends in kindergarten last year, it was hard for him not to. Carlisle had been grumpy for a week after Janine Black's death, so it's no surprise that poor little Jacob had been lashing out this past year. Still, I had a talk with Edward about using words instead of fists, taking a deep breath and counting to ten, and taking it to a grown up if words didn't work.

"Mom, I tried talking to him, but he won't ever listen. I was in the middle of a game with Michael and I was gonna WIN, but Jacob grabbed the rope and held the ball up and we couldn't get it away from him 'cause he's so tall. I told him to gimme the ball, but he wouldn't and he stepped on Michael's foot ON PURPOSE FOR NO REASON and I was jumpin' up and tryin' to grab the ball and telling him to gimme it back and my elbow slipped an' hit his mouth and then he socked me in the eye, so I kicked him! Then the teacher came up and made us stop, but then recess was over, so we didn't get to play anymore and that was my BEST GAME EVER before stupid Jacob messed it up!"

"Oh, Edward… hitting and kicking are not ok, even when someone's being mean to you. And we don't use that S- word in our family. Maybe when Jacob interrupted your game, you could have asked him to wait and offered to let him play against the winner. Do you think that would have been a better way to handle it?"

"No—He won't listen. He's just a big MEANIE! I HATE Jacob Black!"

We had told both of the boys about the Blacks (one of Jacob's older sisters is in Emmett's grade) warning them that their sadness and anger about their parents might boil over at school sometimes, and urging our boys to be compassionate, but I'm afraid the friendship between Jacob and Edward is probably irreparable. Edward is scared of Jacob, plain and simple. Jacob is much bigger than he is, and makes Edward his most frequent bullying target.

"Eddie-Bear, remember what we talked about before? Jacob needs you to be a good friend right now. He's having a hard time since his mommy died and sometimes that makes him act in bad ways." He crossed his arms, grumbled under his breath, and kicked a rock as we walked out to the car. I took Edward home and let him watch a video with some ice on his eye. When the carpool dropped Emmett off at home, he took a look at Edward's shiner and said, "Cool, Dude! It makes you look tough! What's the other guy look like?" _Sigh, these boys…_

Carlisle arrived home that evening as I was cooking dinner and silently placed a box on my place at the table. It was a new pager, just for me… _Oh oh, he's ticked off!_ I should have known his office assistant would tell him, even though I handled it. _Grrr_… Carlisle doesn't scream and yell when he's angry, he seethes. He talks really quietly and enunciates every syllable. I think it's similar to the 'calm under pressure' demeanor he has to adopt while he's in surgery.

"No one could find you today, so I thought this might help." He crossed his arms in front of his chest. "Is Edward ok?" _Can you say 'passive aggressive?'_

"He's fine. Got into a tussle with Jacob playing tetherball. I had a talk with him about fighting again, as did the school counselor. You might want to mention it, too." I took a deep breath. _Wait for it… here it comes…_

"And you were… _where_… all day?" he pinched the bridge of his nose. _Wipe that smug, pinched look off your face, ya jerk!_

"I was in my class at the gym, and then I was comforting a friend over lunch who just learned that her mother _and_ her sister have cancer."

"Oh… that's a shame." _Is he backing off?... Nope, the tight line of his lips says "no."_

"Yes, it's terrible. And I'm a terrible mother for letting my son sit injured in the office. I'm sorry, ok? I felt awful about Edward, but it's not like I was goofing off and neglecting him. I got to him as soon as I found out." _I know I shouldn't let him get to me, but I can't help it, my inner drama queen always wants to come out and defend herself when he's like this._

He huffed a breath in through his nose. "Good. Hopefully this pager will alert you more expeditiously if a situation like this arises again." _There are the big, pointy words..._ "The number is written on the booklet inside. If you could just give that to the school, and make sure you carry this when you're not at home" … _And now he's treating me like I'm five._

"I will. Thank you." _A little false courtesy right back at'cha, dude_. "Would you have a look at Edward's eye, please?" _Please leave me alone. Go make yourself useful_.

With one terse nod, he walked away.

Funny, his tone of voice changed completely when he approached Edward on the couch. "Hey, how's my boy? You doin' ok, Little Buddy? Let Daddy take a look…" _aargh!_

I pasted a smile on my face to get through dinner and baths and bedtime.

Carlisle startled me as I stood at the sink, finishing up the dinner dishes. "They're all tucked in." I stiffened when he placed his hands on my shoulders and a kiss on the top of my head. "I'm sorry about your friend," he murmured in my ear. I nodded curtly. He was going to ignore his earlier tiff—sweep it under the rug. _Unbelievable_. I shrugged his hands off me and reached for a towel to dry my hands.

"What's the matter?"

"Are you serious? You're just going to ignore that whole exchange we had when you got home?"

He cocked his head to the side. "What… You don't like the beeper?"

I scoffed and shook my head incredulously. "The beeper's fine, but I don't appreciate your treating me like an idiot… like a three year old. 'And you were doing _what_ all day?" I mimicked sarcastically.

"Ezzy…"

"God, you sound just like your mother. She's always mean and condescending to me, but I don't expect YOU to treat me that way. I'm your wife—your equal—I'm not your child, so don't you treat me like one."

He was completely taken aback. "I… I didn't realize I sounded that way."

"Well maybe you should use your little Dictaphone and record the way you speak to me next time you're ticked off about something. Might be enlightening."

He sighed, pinched the bridge of his nose, and ran his hand through his hair. "I'm sorry, Es." His face went completely blank and he turned to walk away, probably headed upstairs to bed even though it's only 9:00. _And there's avoidance and the silent treatment. The final step in all of Carlisle's hissy fits…_

"Carlisle…" He ignored me. "Carlisle!" I caught up and took his arm, nudging him toward the couch. "Sit down," I sighed. "Let's have some tea."

He slouched on the couch, head back, eyes closed, silently pulling his hair while we waited for the water to boil. Watching him stew, I started to feel guilty. I tried to calm myself and turn my bitchiness down a notch or two. I set our tea down on the coffee table, gently took his wrists to pull his hands down to his lap, and tugged on his shoulder. "Sit up." I ran my own fingers through his soft blonde hair a few times to try to tame the mess he'd stirred up. I sat down next to him, handed him his tea, and on a whim I grabbed the VCR remote off the table. I pointed it at myself and pushed the rewind button. "Rewind—Let's do this over." He looked at me like I was crazy, then smiled as I placed his empty hand on my shoulder, leaned into him, and turned his chin toward my ear. "You had just said…" Moving his jaw with my fingers and using a deep voice I said, "'I'm sorry about your friend." He snickered at my goofiness. "And I _should_ have said 'Thank you, it's been a really rough day.'" I placed my hand atop his on my shoulder and squeezed. "I'm sorry I made you worry about Edward."

He set his cup down so that he could massage my shoulders with both hands and kissed the shell of my ear. "I'm sorry I snipped at you. I didn't mean to make you feel belittled. And I didn't get you the pager to be spiteful. I really thought it might be helpful."

I savored the massage for a few seconds more, then took a deep breath and leaned back into his chest, placing my hands on his forearms as he wrapped them around me. "I know. The delivery just kind of sucked." He nodded into my neck and gave me an apologetic squeeze. "Sorry I compared you to your mother." I squeezed his knee.

"Hey, I learned from the best!" he chuckled.

"Well, I think we need to un-learn that particular communication style. I think we both need to teach ourselves how to… fight… nicer."

"Yeah." He held me tight and rocked us a bit.

Both of our moods started to pick up a bit. "No dumping, right?"

He smiled. "Nope. No dumping." He released me and reached for his tea.

Talk of his mom and my already foul mood dredged up old issues. "I wish she liked me," I whispered, trying not to cry. "I'd always dreamed that when I got married, I'd finally get a mom again."

"Ezzy, you know her actions have nothing to do with you. It's unbelievable to me that she can't see how wonderful and kind and beautiful you are. No one would have been good enough for her only child, though, you know that. My getting married and moving on with my life meant that she was all alone with Dad, and it's their own damn fault that they didn't prepare themselves for that stage of life. It's her loss, Es. She's missing out on so much by not loving you." I realized he was right, and vowed to myself that I'd never let my relationship with Carlisle go stale again and that I'd love and cherish my future daughters-in-law as if they were my own flesh and blood.

"What brought on the mom issues, Es?"

My face fell. "My friend Irina."

He took a deep breath. "Her mom and her sister both, huh? That's brutal."

I nodded.

"What kind of cancers do they have?"

"Breast. Both of them. She's scared to death. Her sister's my age."

He lifted my hand to his lips, then held it in his on his knee. "What's the prognosis?"

"The sister's is early, a small lump. But her mom's has spread to the lymph nodes."

He sighed and shook his head. "I'll pray for them."

I nodded, "Me, too. I wish there's more I could do, but they live back east. Ohio, I think…"

My mind started wandering, connecting all the sad stories of mothers passing and leaving their children alone. "At least Irina's grown. Her mom has been to her wedding, her college graduation, held her children… Poor little Jacob and his sisters will never get that." Tears flowed down my face. "I wish he weren't taking it out on Edward, but I remember what it was like. For years after Mama died, I could be anywhere, doing anything, and without warning it would just hit me. I'd be overcome with these feelings of rage and despair. I'd lash out, not even aware of anyone around me or what I was doing. That died down mostly by the time I met you, but even now, certain places or things I see or hear will set me off. I just get this pang of emotion in my heart. I guess that's what happened today. I'm sorry I took it out on you."

Carlisle brushed my hair out of my face and wiped my tears. "I'm sorry I made it worse. I'll do everything I can to make you feel better. I'm pretty good at fixing hearts, you know." He placed our clasped hands over my heart. I smiled weakly and sniffed. He looked into my eyes. "No more tears, Baby. We don't do red eyes in our family."

"Are you treating me like a child again, mister?" I joked.

He put his hands up in front of him as if being arrested. "No, ma'am! You are 100% in charge around here!"

I laughed, "Well then, I want you to take me upstairs and snuggle me."

"As you wish…" I smiled at the reference he'd made to the great video we'd rented on our last date night.

The next day, I wanted to surprise Carlisle for lunch. I confirmed with his assistant that his calendar was clear and drove to his office. As the elevator opened on his floor, I could hear someone yelling at him. "What the hell do you think you're doing, Cullen? Get your hands off my wife!"

_Oh my gosh, what's going on?_ I rushed down the hall toward the shouting and looked in to see Carlisle sitting at the feet of Victoria, Dr. Hunter's wife—the fiery redhead who had come on to Carlisle at the Christmas party. She was on the examination table. His back was to me, but I could see that he had one of his hands on her ankle, the other on her calf. She was shifting on the crinkly paper, moving her knees together. _Had she just spread her legs right in front of his face, wearing that short dress?_ Dr. Hunter was rushing forward, about to lift Carlisle up by the lapels of his lab coat. Victoria stood up and straightened her skirt, looking very much like the victim of an unwanted advance.

"Keep my hands off _her_? She's the aggressor here, James! She's the one who lied about twisting her ankle in those ridiculous high heels and probably lied about you being with a patient to get me in here alone so she could…"

"WHAT IS GOING ON HERE?" I demanded, hands on hips.

"Esme…" Carlisle gasped with a mixture of relief and horror.

"Explain yourselves!" I glared at him. Victoria tried to slink off, James in tow, a smug smile on her devious face showing how pleased she was that Carlisle—that scoundrel—got caught by the missus.

"You. Stay." I raged at her. "Are you making moves on my husband… _again_?"

"Again?" James shouted. "Vic, what's this all about?"

"According to your charming wife, Dr. Hunter, she's just dying to get Carlisle out of his underwear."

"What?" James boomed. "Who do you think you are, lady?"

"Hey, that's my wife." Carlisle fumed.

"And this is mine. She would never…"

"That was a joke!" Victoria shrieked. "Remember when I stole the Santa G-string from her at the Christmas party, Jamie? I just teased her that I was taking it and she wouldn't get to see Dr. Cullen in it."

"No, that's not exactly what you said, Victoria." I was disgusted again, recalling her words.

Carlisle looked on, dumbfounded, his head bobbing between me and the Hunters like he was watching a game of tennis.

"It was more like, 'I'd gladly strip Carlisle of his shorts any day.' And then you winked. Very subtle."

"Esme, you're so full of it! Get over yourse…"

"Actually, I think she used the word 'underwear,' not 'shorts.'" A deep voice interjected from the crowd gathering behind me. Thankfully, Garrett Russell had stepped in to confirm my side of the story. "Yeah, she'd 'gladly strip Carlisle of his _underwear_ anyday,' is what I remember. And she did wink. It was pretty sleazy."

"Mm Hm. And then you and Kate took me home."

"Right. But first, remember when we were putting on our coats? That's when James tried on the g-string and stuffed it with tissue paper after you'd said it would probably be too small for Carlisle anyway." The onlookers burst out laughing.

James gripped Victoria's arm and the Hunters left in a huff.

Carlisle's jaw dropped.

Garrett and I looked at each other and started laughing, too. "Too bad you got paged, Cullen. You missed quite a gift exchange!" Garrett high fived a couple of the guys who had gathered around, describing just what had gone down at the Christmas party as the crowd dispersed.

"Thank you," I mouthed to him. He replied with a wink and a smile.

Carlisle and I were left alone. He circled my waist with his arms and breathed "my hero" into my ear.

"Just doing my job, sir, keeping the innocent safe from treacherous villains." As we walked to the elevator, Carlisle took my hand and slipped me a little piece of paper as he whispered into my ear, "I kept fingering this in my pocket all morning. It's driving me crazy. Maybe she picked up on my horny thoughts or something. I'll let _you_ enjoy it for the rest of the day."

"That vamp probably sniffed your arousal and tracked you down. I can't believe her. How can her husband not see what she's doing?"

"Shhh… Baby! That's enough about her. She's nothing. Forget about it. Read this. It's perfect." He grinned as we stepped in. I unfolded the slip of paper in the semi-privacy of the elevator and read:

_Doctor, I'm not feeling well at all. I've got an itch that I can't scratch, my heart is beating so fast, I'm short of breath, and I feel like I'm going to faint. I will probably need a full examination and maybe even an injection. Can you help me, Doctor? Please?_

I looked up at him and raised my eyebrows. Then, with a devious grin, I placed the back of my hand against my forehead, and sighed, "Oh, Dr. Cullen," pretending to swoon against the elevator wall. His eyes were full of lust as he caught me, pressing his body against me. "You're in luck," he breathed into my ear. "I make house calls." With that, he planted a single, soulful kiss on my lips and backed away, resting nonchalantly against the back wall of the elevator, hands in his pockets, as the doors opened to the lobby. As Carlisle opened the passenger side door of his sexy Porsche and guided me inside, we spotted the Hunters across the parking lot, screaming at each other next to her car. He gave them a friendly honk of the horn and I waved my fingers at them as we sped by.

Later that night, I found a paper medical robe on my bathroom vanity with instructions written in Carlisle's barely-legible handwriting. 'Open in front. Nothing underneath.' _Oh, Doctor!_ As I waited on the bed, he knocked twice and walked into the room, donning his white lab coat, "Dr. Cullen" embroidered above the pocket, with a stethoscope draped around his neck. _Mmm. He's such a babe_!

"Hello Miss Platt. How are you today?" I smiled at his use of my maiden name. _Oh, sexy doctor, I think I just soaked a hole through this paper robe. _

"Dr. Cullen, I'm so glad you're here. Can you help me?" I looked up at him, eyes wide and flirty, and spoke in a high, breathy, youthful voice.

"What seems to be the problem?" He was all business. Very serious.

"I'm afraid something's terribly wrong, doctor. Every time I see you or even think about you, my heart starts beating so fast. I can't seem to catch my breath, I feel like I'm going to faint, and I have this irresistible feeling between my legs—like an itch that I can never quite scratch. And when I'm not near you, I get this terrible ache." I grasped at my chest. "I don't know what it is, doctor, can you please help me?"

"Well, let's take a look." He wrapped a blood pressure cuff around my arm and I placed my hand on his waist as he ran the test. As the cuff filled with air, squeezing my arm, I thought with a smirk of something else I'd like to squeeze. He stared at my lips and barely whispered "open" to place a thermometer under my tongue. He combed the hair away from my face and traced the outside of my ears with his finger before looking inside with his scope. I pursed my lips around the thermometer, sucking on it as he slid if from my mouth, causing him to gulp. I smiled, knowing he was getting as turned on by our role play as I was. He ran his thumb along my bottom lip.

"Open wide."

He clenched his jaw as my mouth opened into a wide O, took in his tongue depressor, and moaned an erotic sounding, "Ahhhh…" When he slowly slid his stethoscope from around his neck and placed it in his ears, my breath hitched. As he stood to my side and placed the scope against my back, I couldn't help but shudder with the deep breaths he requested. I closed my eyes, overcome with desire, and gripped his coat along the button placket. The bare skin peeking between his lapels, and the lean, muscular runner's legs extending below the hem of his coat indicated that he wore no shirt, no slacks. Was he completely bare underneath that lab coat? Was he naked? The thought of it caused a wave of heat to flush through my body. As he moved around front to my chest, I placed my hands behind me and leaned on them, dropping my head back so that I peered at the ceiling. This caused my chest to jut out toward the good doctor as he spread my paper robe apart to check my racing heart.

"Hmmm… I see what you mean. Your heart rate is quite elevated. Would you like to listen?"

"Yes, doctor," I purred.

He removed the stethoscope from his ears and placed it gently in mine. He lifted the round disc and whispered almost silently into it, "I love you," before placing it on my racing heart. I closed my eyes and smiled gently, listening to the evidence of my desire for him.

"Only for you, Carlisle," I whispered.

After a brief pause, I heard a slightly different beat and opened my eyes to see him holding the instrument to his own bare chest. I looked up into his eyes and he replied, "And mine beats for you, Ezzy." I placed my hand over the one he held to his chest. He cupped my face with his free hand and gazed into my eyes, dazzling me with a sea of brilliant blue, as we silently worshipped each other to the steady, strong, beating of his heart. He broke our reverie with a soft kiss, removed the tool from my ears, and resumed his examination.

"Now, Miss Platt, since you mentioned some discomfort between your legs, I'll need to conduct a complete gynecological exam as well. Will that be all right?"

"Yes, doctor, anything you need to do. I'm in your capable hands." I batted my eyelashes at him a couple times and we both tried to stifle a laugh.

"We'll start with a breast exam. Are you checking yourself every month?" He laid me down on my back.

"I try to doctor, but sometimes I forget."

He spread the paper robe open wider to expose my chest and proceeded to give me a thorough breast exam, reminding me how to do a self exam as he did so. When finished, he caressed my cheek and said, "You're perfect," looking tenderly into my eyes and nodding slightly to let me know that I was safe and healthy, reassuring me after Irina's terrible news yesterday. My lips turned up in thanks. He leaned down to kiss me first on the lips, then on the top of each breast as he cupped them from below. He moved to stand, but I guided his head toward my nipple, desperate for the moist warmth of his tongue on my most sensitive spots. I moaned as his suckling and nibbling on one side and then the other made me dizzy and sent tingling jolts of desire to my pelvis.

He stood with a grin. "That's an exam I only conduct on house calls. You should feel very lucky."

"Oh doctor, I'm the luckiest woman alive." It's true. I feel so blessed that Carlisle chose me and has stood faithfully by my side for all these years. This beautiful man. So many women admire him, desire him… some of them half my age, yet even through our difficult times, I'm the girl he wants. Lucky, indeed.

"Are you ready to move on?" He moved his hands to my waist, ready to tear apart the flimsy plastic sash that held the paper robe closed. I nodded, and with a growl, he tore it open, exposing me to him, head to toe. He began pressing my belly and pelvis to check my internal organs. He reached into his bag for KY Jelly and a latex glove, and then I felt his fingers thrust inside me—two, I think—feeling my cervix and other lady parts.

"You know, at our age, physiological changes start to occur which might make you feel uncomfortable during intercourse. Be sure to use a lubricant every time, Miss Platt, so that you can fully enjoy every sexual experience. Even when your own body makes you as wet as you are tonight, an added lubricant will ensure that you don't miss any of the pleasure."

"Thank you doctor Cullen. That's excellent advice."

Carlisle concluded the clinical part of the exam, and began using his fingers to massage all my most sensitive places. As he concentrated on my g-spot, my breathing sped up and I could feel my nerves and muscles tightening, clenching, twitching as I approached orgasm.

"Oh, doctor," I moaned.

He wasn't ready to let me go over the edge quite yet and slowed his fingers, causing me to pout at the loss.

He moved his hand to my backside, drumming his finger tips over my anus, causing me to clench.

"Carlisle…" I objected, uncomfortable and a little disgusted, freaked out by what he was doing, and what else I thought he might do.

"Just relax and take a deep breath, Miss Platt. Do you like that?"

I squirmed. "It tickles."

"Mm Hm. Do you like it?"

"Um… I guess so." I giggled, embarrassed to admit that it did feel pretty good. "Yes."

He smiled and kissed me.

"Ahhh…" I sighed as he moved down my body, leaving a trail of kisses and nips.

When his face was between my thighs, he spread my labia with his fingers and took a long look. "So pretty," he murmured. Hungry eyes met mine for a moment before he remembered his role play. "Hmm… Let's have a closer look." He licked his lips and then placed a slow, gentle kiss between my legs. He pulled away quickly, eyebrows knit and trying to hide a grimace as he sought the paper gown I'd worn and used it to wipe the artificial lubricant from my body.

"Sorry."

"It's fine." He kissed me again and looked up with a reassuring smile. Then his tongue darted out and gave me a quick lick. "Yum."

I snickered and wove my fingers through his hair, guiding him closer. He obliged. Kissing, nibbling, sucking. "Oh god…" Flicking, lapping, swirling. "That's so good…" And every so often, tickling my backside again with the hand that was still gloved. "Oh YES Carlisle, right there, just like that." I loved the added sensation and felt my body building up to the orgasmic state it had been in before my husband surprised me with his first touch _back there_. I took a deep, cleansing breath in. As I let it out slowly, I felt my stomach, my pelvis, my thighs, clench and tighten and explode in a blast of tingling white light radiating out from deep inside me to the tips of my fingers and toes. I clenched my teeth to keep from screaming out loud. I moaned. "Oh, god… Oh my god… Ooooooh." My chest heaved, trying to get enough oxygen. Carlisle looked up slowly, looking smug and I heard him snap off the latex glove. Once I'd caught my breath and come down from my bliss, I asked him what in the world prompted him to touch me like that.

"You've surprised me with so many new things with the Fantasy Basket, I wanted to surprise you with something new. I hope you liked it. I love being your first, you know." He gave me a quick kiss and then returned to character.

"Now, Miss Platt, I believe I've identified the problem you're having, but I'd like to conduct an ultrasound to confirm my diagnosis."

"Oh my goodness, I'm not pregnant, am I?" _What in the world is he talking about? He doesn't have an ultrasound machine here. _

"No, no. I suspect something completely different. I just need to take a closer look, ok?"

"Of course, doctor, whatever you need to do."

"Very well. Here we are." He held up my hot pink vibrator. I covered my face with my hands and laughed. He tried to stifle a chuckle as well, and then cleared his throat to continue, "You've had a vaginal ultrasound before, haven't you, Miss Platt?"

"Yes, Sir, I have." We were barely stifling our giggles.

"Good, so you know what to expect. This should give us a good feel for what's going on between your legs so that I can settle on a course of treatment."

"What a relief that will be."

"I certainly hope so. Let's begin, shall we?" He spread my knees apart, applied a big glob of KY Jelly to the tip of the vibrator, and switched it on at full speed.

"Carlisle, no!" My warning was too late. Lubricant splattered on the sheets and both of us before he quickly turned it off.

"Whoops!" We were both laughing hysterically as we used the paper robe to clean up the mess.

"You have to turn it on after it's already in! Besides, there's no way I can handle high speed, especially right now. I'm still pretty tingly from that last one. I might just die and go to heaven, even on low."

"Death by orgasm," he laughed. "Sounds like a good way to go!" He lay down next to me, needing some rest from his fit of laughter.

As we lay side by side, I asked, "How many guys have you had on your table who've had heart attacks while they're going at it?"

"Uhhhh…." He snorted. "More than a few over the years."

"Any women?"

He nodded. "They're harder to spot, and less likely to admit it, but… yeah."

"That would be horrifying." I burst into laughter.

"Well, for the ones who don't make it, at least they went out happy!" he grinned.

"Oh, you're awful!" I gasped. Our laughter calmed and we were quiet for a moment.

"This is fun." He turned his head to look at me and flashed his gorgeous smile.

I nodded in agreement, silently meeting his eyes with my own. I caught a glimpse of our past: we were best friends, always laughing… teasing… playful. Could we get back there? I hoped so.

He turned to his side, head propped on his elbow. "You wanna finish up, or are you tired out?"

"Oh, Dr. Cullen, I could never stop now." I ran my fingers along the bare skin exposed between his lapels. "I've been dying to find out what's under this lab coat all night…" I giggled.

He sat back up. "Well, where were we?"

"Covered in goo…" I joked.

He laughed, shook his head, and whispered, "stop it!" under his breath.

"Sorry," I snickered and then bit my lips together to hold in the giggles and the sarcasm. He rose to his feet and bent down to give me a quick kiss.

"Doctor?" he looked up at me, eyebrows raised. I batted my eyes once or twice. "I trust your diagnosis without the ultrasound. I think I'd just like the antidote now, please."

"Are you sure?" He raised his eyebrows.

I nodded. I really did think the vibrator might kill me right now.

"Yes, well… I'm fairly certain that my findings are correct, so it should be all right to forgo that final test." He crossed his arms in front of his chest and began pacing the floor. "Miss Platt, I'm sorry to inform you that you are suffering from something called _catellus deserta_. It's a fairly common affliction, and not life threatening. However, the course of treatment is fairly rigorous. Many find it very difficult to treat fully," _what the heck is he talking about?_ "but similar to antibiotics, the medicine I'm going to prescribe for you must be applied precisely according to the directions for a full seven days. Even if you're feeling better, it's essential that you complete the full course of treatment. Do you understand?" _7 days of what?_

"Yes, doctor, of course."

"Good." He began unbuttoning his lab coat, but stopped when he got to his waist. _Darn_! "The treatment for _catellus deserta_ is a vaginal cream that must be applied directly to the cervix, using a special applicator." _My eyes grew wide and my lips curled into a smile as it dawned on me. _"The applicator will deliver a measured dose of the medication each time it's used, so you'll get the proper amount. It is very important that you apply this cream at around the same time each day for seven days in a row. Will your schedule permit for that right now?"

"I believe so, yes." _Hmmm… 7 days in a row? We haven't done that since we were trying to make Baby Emmett._

"Good. Shall we proceed with the first application?" He reached for the remaining buttons on his lab coat, revealing that he wore nothing underneath. _Oooh_!

"Most definitely, Dr. Cullen." I squirmed and gripped the sheets at the sight of his glorious body, standing fully erect. He dropped the coat to the floor, and I licked my lips in anticipation. I've got to be the luckiest girl alive that this gorgeous, sexy doctor is mine and mine alone. I sighed as he crawled across the bed, not stopping until his body lay atop mine, covering me completely and providing the warmth and weight that I'd been craving. His eyes were sparkling, playful. He hummed slightly and buried his face in my neck where he began nipping and sucking from my jaw to my collarbone, to my shoulder, paying lots of attention to the sweet spot behind my ear.

"I see that the special applicator is primed and ready, doctor." Well, I couldn't actually _see_ it, but I did feel it pressing against my thigh.

He lifted his head with a devious smirk. "It's been ready and waiting all day, Miss Platt," and he ran his length along my folds, coating himself with the wetness that pooled there. After three passes, I just couldn't stand the anticipation any longer.

"Now, doctor. I'm ready for my shot." I reached down to guide him into my opening and reveled in the feeling of Carlisle, sheathed deep inside me with each urgent thrust. I wrapped my legs around his waist and lifted my hips in rhythm with his. His lips attacked mine. His tongue thrust into my mouth at the same pace as his hips, continuing until he had to release me and gasp for breath.

"Doctor Cullen will take care of you, Baby, your _catellus deserta_." _Oh my_!

"Tell me more, doctor." I unhooked my ankles and placed my feet flat on the bed on either side of him, my knees bent to provide more leverage for thrusting my hips into his. I reached my arms above my head, gripping the bars of the wrought iron headboard. He grunted Latin medical terms into my ear as he pounded into me over and over and over. I took hold of my knees and held them up, straightening my legs so that my ankles were up around my ears. All those years of dance classes and cheerleading as a kid had made me pretty flexible, and I could still do the splits at 38. Came in very useful in times like this… The new position allowed Carlisle to sink even deeper into me, eliciting moans of pleasure from both of us.

"Mmmmm… faster, doctor. Harder, please." He shifted slightly to gain more leverage and pounded faster, harder, hitting the perfect spot inside me, over and over and over again. "Yes… yes… yes… don't stop… right there… Oh, I'm so close… Oh, yeah…." I released one of my legs and reached down to where we were joined, gathering moisture from our coupling on an outward stroke. I flicked my clitoris with the tip of my middle finger, shuddering each time it caught against my fingernail in a satisfying scratch.

"Oh, yeah, Baby. I love it when you touch yourself." Soon, my muscles clenched, my breathing sped, and I felt the wonderful, familiar tingle begin deep within my pelvis and spread throughout my body. "Ohhhhhhh…." I was coming for a third, magnificent time tonight, digging my nails into Carlisle's ass and pulling him into me as close as we could possibly get. The squeezing of my orgasm triggered his own, and he let out a tantalizing series of grunts, groans, and curses as his whole body tensed and I felt him throbbing deep inside me. As we lay clinging to each other, catching our breath, I kept feeling him throb. With each twitch, I squeezed my Kegel muscles around him, causing his breath to hitch. It sounded like he had the hiccups, and soon we were both giggling. "Stop tha… hup!"

"Are you finished? I'll stop when you do." I teased.

"Hup… I can't help… hup… it." He snickered and nuzzled into my neck, the twitch-squeeze-hitch pattern slowing. When it finally subsided, he lifted his head and looked into my eyes, resuming character. "All right, Miss Platt, we have successfully applied the first dose. Remember to repeat daily for one week."

It was a very good week. Exhausting, but good.

I snuck the doctor fantasy back into the basket.

* * *

**A/N**

Check yourself for breast cancer—every month—unless you have a Dr. Carlisle to do it for you. Sadly, I do not.

Did you figure out what video they watched on their last date night? It's my all-time favorite, and it was released in the late 80s. Hint: The chocolate coating helps it go down easier.

Thanks to Besotted for not letting me take things too far.

Thanks to all of you who encouraged me last week and helped get my head on straight. You're right—quality trumps quantity, and the reviews for The Fantasy Basket are insightful, thought provoking, and often emotional. I'm touched that this story is relatable and moving and real to so many of you. I'm also thrilled to hear that some of you are making your very own fantasy baskets. Good for you! Leave me a message, and I'll send a little present to help out with that.

Thanks for reading. Please review!

JEN

8487 words

Twitter: JenEsmeFF


	11. Chapter 10, Bella: Date Night

**The Fantasy Basket**

**By JenEsme**

**Inspired by Stephenie Meyers' Twilight series. No infringement intended.**

**Chapter 10—Bella: Date Night**

**Posted June 20, 2012**

**Please Review!**

April 18, 2012 (Wednesday) 

The top was down, the music was on, and we were taking the scenic route to dinner—Highway 101, the Pacific Coast Highway. We crested the hill out of Del Mar to catch our first glimpse of Torrey Pines Beach just as the sun was setting in brilliant hues of yellow, orange, pink, and purple, over the blue of the Pacific and the long white stretch of sand. It took my breath away. It always does. This spot gets me every time, especially at sunset. It's so beautiful. I turned my eyes to the south to see the tree-covered cliffs of Torrey Pines Nature Reserve looming over the lower part of the beach. Further south where the crescent-shaped coastline curves west, the lights of La Jolla, our dinner destination, just began to twinkle to life for the evening.

As we drove beside the long stretch of beach, Edward took my hand in his, catching the diamond of my engagement ring under his thumb and rotating it back and forth around my finger. I looked over and smiled at him, remembering a previous sunset at this beach. He'd driven up to the nature reserve and rushed me down one of the trails so that we could claim a bench on the cliff overlooking the beach in time to watch the sky explode into color. I was so mesmerized watching the glowing orange sun descend slowly beyond the liquid blue horizon that I didn't notice Edward had dropped to one knee until he took my hand in both of his. As my eyes captured Edward kneeling in front of me, I marveled at the sight of him silhouetted against nature's backdrop beyond. I'd never experienced a more beautiful sight, the red and bronze of his hair brought to life by the glowing sun, his hopeful eyes adding brilliant green to the fantastic mix of color in the sky behind him, the rhythmic sound of waves crashing 100 feet below, the occasional call of a seagull flying overhead, and Edward's deep melodic voice declaring his undying love and asking me to spend the rest of forever by his side while sliding the glittering diamond and gleaming band of platinum around my finger. It was magical.

This stretch of road held many memories for us. I wonder if he drove this way on purpose, trying to set a positive mood for what may be a difficult conversation. We passed the beach where he tried to teach me to surf, before learning that I am a terrible klutz with a poor sense of balance; then the cliffs where we got engaged. We climbed a hill and rounded the curve to pass the medical center where Edward works—we were so excited when he got his residency assignment, and later a permanent job offer there, our ticket to a life together in San Diego. We turned right and drove by the UCSD campus where we met. I was a creative writing and communications undergrad, stumbling toward the coffee cart in need of my morning java. He was a med student hopelessly lost and meandering around the main campus, looking for the registrar's office to solve some glitch. His eyes were on his map when he bumped into me, knocking the backpack off my shoulder.

"I beg your pardon. Are you all right?" his smooth, deep voice soothed. His gentle hands, lifting the strap back onto my shoulder, warmed. His rich green eyes pierced. "I'm so sorry…" his voice trailed off into a whisper.

I blinked away from the trance he put me in. "I'm… fine. You're…" I noticed his map, "… lost?" He rolled his eyes, embarrassed, and nodded with a devastating smirk. He ran a hand through tousled reddish hair and explained that he was more familiar with the med school campus. I could have pointed him in the right direction and been on my way, but I didn't. I couldn't. I walked him there myself, compelled to spend more time with this boy, this… man who seemed to be kindness and playfulness, good manners and intelligence and wit, a little bit of science geek, and all kinds of sexy, rolled up into one. He introduced himself and compared the bright San Diego sunshine to the overcast skies of his hometown, Seattle.

I could have left him at the building entrance, but I walked through the door he held open and entertained him with stories of incompatibility with my new roommate as we waited in line together. I showed him my favorite restaurant on campus. He bought me a burger and shared memories of his undergraduate and med school years at Stanford. I skipped my marketing class and told him about family and friends I'd left behind in Phoenix as we browsed in the bookstore and discovered a mutual love of reading. He sat through a psyche class with me and we debated the professor's assertions of nature vs. nurture over dinner, punctuated by comparisons between him and his older brother. I invited him to a friend's party where we shared a giant margarita and our first kiss before reluctantly… painfully parting for the night with a promise to meet again the next evening.

From the day we met, we were drawn to each other, inseparable, enthralled. Only now, five years later, the pressures of marriage, mortgage, motherhood and everything else had weakened that bond, severed that once-irresistible connection. He jogs on that beach while I brush sand out of sippy cups and reapply sunscreen. We last hiked to those cliffs three years ago on our anniversary, when I told him I was pregnant. I've grown to resent that hospital, the source of so much promise and opportunity, for stealing my place as Edward's top priority. And school… _sigh_… it's a wistful memory of idealistic dreams for the future—a happily ever after that's a lot harder in reality than we ever imagined. Our trip down memory lane turned toward an unknown future as the car veered toward the west and into La Jolla.

We pulled into the parking spot, and as silly as it was, I fretted about holding Edward's hand. I never would have questioned this in the past, but now I do. Thankfully, he grabbed my hand after opening my door for me, a chivalrous act that reminded me so much of the gallant Edward I used to know. Once we were inside, the hostess seated us, the waitress took our orders (after flirting with Edward), and we sat in awkward silence, neither of us sure what to say to one another. All the old stories have been told. There's nothing new to discover about each other. So now what?

"It's pretty here, isn't it? They have a great view."

"Yeah, gorgeous," I replied, "Alice said the food is good, too."

"Good. It's nice to go somewhere and not have to ask for a high chair."

I chuckled, "It's nice of your parents to watch him…" I bit my lips to silence them and the conversation died. We had agreed not to talk about Riley or Edward's job, so we could focus on US. _What do I say? How do I start? How do we spend these precious few hours of uninterrupted time alone? How do we begin to fix things? _

"So…"

"The drive was nice. It was like… a trip down memory lane or something."

He smiled and nodded in agreement.

"How'd you decide to propose at Torrey Pines?"

Surprised at my question, he stared out the window at the ocean to collect his thoughts. "I knew you liked it there. In all the hundreds of times we drove past that beach, it seemed to affect you every single time. You'd always catch your breath or get a dreamy smile on your face and comment about how pretty it was or say 'THIS is why we live in San Diego' or something like that. I knew it was a place you loved, so I thought it would be a good spot. You still do that, you know."

"Really?"

"Mmm hmm. You did it tonight. Plus, I thought that if I asked you there and you said no I could just turn around and jump off the cliff. Put myself out of my misery."

"Edward! You goofball!"

"What, I thought about it!"

I rolled my eyes. "Well, I guess it's a good thing I said yes."

"Absolutely," he grinned and put a bite in his mouth.

I took a sip of my wine, pensive.

"Do you still think so?" I asked, tentatively.

He choked a little and took a drink of water. "What? Babe! How could you say that?" He furrowed his brow. "Oh my god, do you regret mar…"

"No!... No, I just…" I shook my head, took in some air, and blinked to hold in the tears that prickled my sinuses. I let out the breath I was holding in and started to explain, "It's just…" I pressed my fingers along my temple and then pushed my hair away from my face. "When we were driving by school I was just thinking about the first day we met…" He leaned back in his seat, arms crossed in front of his chest. "We were so drawn to each other. I didn't want to stop talking to you, or looking at you, or hearing your voice, or just being near you. I couldn't have pulled myself away from you if I'd tried. And I could tell you felt the same way about me." He leaned forward, smiled, and nodded in agreement. "But now," I closed my eyes and shook my head slowly, "I don't know where those feelings could have gone or how they could have changed so drastically. Or why. But…" I sniffled. "We were SO strong, Edward, from the very first moment. What's happened to us? We don't talk, we don't touch, we don't usually even say goodnight. Sometimes I wonder if you even love me anymore?" I buried my face in my hands, trying to hide my tears.

He reached across the table and grabbed my hand, "Hey… Bell… Babe… Look at me." I looked up into his cloudy eyes and sniffled. He smiled softly, "You know I love you. I could never stop." My eyes dropped to a spot on his shoulder and I swallowed a sob that threatened to emerge as my hand clenched the napkin in my lap. _No, I don't_ _know that. Not anymore._

"What, you doubt me?"

"No," I looked into his eyes again before looking quickly away and shifting in my seat. "It's like we said the other night, though. It's not black and white—you're in love and then you're not. It fades. So, yes, you say you love me, but your actions…" I shook my head. "I don't know. You've just had a funny way of showing it lately."

A frown overcame his face and he nodded, abashed. "Yeah, maybe." Then he got defensive. "But it's not like I haven't tried."

I straightened my shoulders and sat up tall. "I know. I guess I haven't been much better," I admitted, my hands surrendering in front of me. I sighed, defeated, and dropped my elbows to the table, covering my face. I rested my chin on my hand and started chewing on a fingernail. He sat slumped against the booth, tracing patterns in the droplets that had condensed on his water glass. We both happened to glance up and held each other's grim gaze for a few seconds. I sat up and watched my hands as I wrung them on the table in front of me. I was nervous. I was scared. I didn't want to bring it up, but I had to know. I had to ask. It had been gnawing a hole in my gut all week, since I'd seen them. The smile, the hug… oh, god, what did it mean? I had to ask. I struggled to find the right words, words a mature adult would use rather than the vitriol of a jealous teenage girlfriend that my emotions urged me to spit at him. He looked at me. I looked at my plate and toyed with my fork. I wouldn't have the courage if I saw his eyes. "Is there anything going on between you and Leah Clearwater?"

That got his attention. He leaned toward me, a staggered look on his face. "What? Are you serious?" I bristled. "Leah's my friend, my colleague," he insisted.

"_I'm_ supposed to be your friend, Edward. Your best friend. But I get the feeling that she knows a lot more about what's going on with you lately than I do."

"Bella, don't be absurd. We talk mostly about the politics and nonsense that goes on at work. I try not to bring that stupid stuff home with me. You don't want to hear about all that crap." _Nice of him to decide that for me._

"I want to know _you_ and what's going on with _you_." I looked into his eyes and took a deep breath for bravery. "I saw you with her the other day, you know." He tilted his head, wondering when and what I was talking about. "Last week when you worked the overnight and I brought you food? I was there." I sighed and twisted my napkin. "I thought you might want some company for dinner but while I was waiting for Julie to get off the phone so I could ask her to page you, I saw you. You and Leah. You were laughing and hugging." I looked at him wistfully. "And I wished it were me."

I crossed my arms turned my head sideways and shook it _no, no, no_, as I looked at the ceiling willing myself to keep the tears that pooled in my eyes from spilling out. I was hurt, I was angry, I was… god, I don't know what all I was, but I hated looking weak, feeling scorned, being thrust into this stereotypical role of the clueless, jilted wife. It had always been my biggest fear in marrying him. The one chink in my confidence: that he would find someone more equal to him, someone who shared a background closer to his own, and trade up. I was probably making something out of nothing, but…

"Bella… Oh my god… Do you think… Do you think I'm screwing around? How could you… What the hell, Bella?" He gasped, flabbergasted by that assumption. Leaning back in his seat, scrubbing a hand through his hair, he blew out a big breath and looked at me, eyes narrowed, lips in a tight line, and jaw clenched as his head shook in disbelief. "She had just told me that she and Seth are pregnant. Finally. It's been a long and difficult road for them. _That's_ what the hug was for."

I let out a sigh of relief, and then was overcome with shame.

His face bore a look of contempt. "I was happy for her… them… whatever! I invited them to Riley's party so they could get a taste of what's to come. I was also thinking it might be nice to get to know them better, outside of work. We don't have that many couple friends." He shrugged. "Bella, how could you accuse me of that? Do you really think so little of me? That I would cheat on you? Is that the kind of person you think I am?"

"No. I didn't think you would, deep down. But it just looked so bad. And things between us lately have been so…"

He nodded slightly.

"The look on your face with her, Edward. You looked so happy… content. I haven't seen you look like that for a long time. Not with me, anyway and I… My mind just…" I squeezed my fingertips together next to my temple and then splayed them out like an explosion.

"Bell, she's _just_ a friend. We talk about work stuff and marathon stuff. She confided in me about the infertility about a year ago when I called her out for acting a little off one day at work. But mostly it's just crazy, stupid, stressful work stuff that I don't want to bring home with me. Jeez!" He shook his head and muttered under his breath, "I've got enough to deal with at home…"

"What? What did you say? You have to _deal _with me?" I covered my mouth with my hand and a loud sob escaped.

He huffed in annoyance. "Bella, I didn't say that. I was referring to the fact that I work _all_ day and sometimes all night. When I come home I have to walk on a 2x8 to get to my front door and when I come in, half the rooms are so empty they echo and the other half are a mess. Then, before I even get a chance to sit down and take my shoes off, you hand me a screaming toddler and growl at me to take him because you have to cook dinner. God, I have no… downtime. The only place I can feel any sense of peace or calm to try to get past my day is if I go for a run or try to sit down and play the piano for a while which, of course, makes you accuse me of 'running away.' So, yeah, there's a lot of crap to deal with." He scoffed. "You know, I advise my patients to reduce stress in their lives, but I can't seem to escape it in my own life. Not at work, not at home, not anywhere."

"And what about me? You think it's all fun and games for me? What about my downtime, Edward? When do I get to do something fun or relaxing by myself? Because I don't recall having the opportunity to decompress, either. Maybe if we just made more of an effort to talk to each other, we could…"

Edward interrupted. "You say you want me to talk to you, Bella, but your actions shut me out. There's always something more important than me—something more urgent: the baby or the phone or dinner on the stove. And the times you do bother to talk to me, it's because you're pissed off about something. Always so… negative." As he spoke, my jaw clenched tighter and tighter. My lips pressed into a straight line. My brows furrowed. He let out a deep breath and raked a hand through his hair before leaning toward me and softening his tone. "You're never happy anymore, Bella. I just want to…"

I glanced at the tables around us, confirming that I couldn't explode. Instead, I leaned toward him and hissed out words just above a whisper. My clenched fists rested on the tablecloth with my nails digging into my palms. "Of course I'm unhappy. You don't even _like_ me anymore. You're always mad at me. I can't do anything right in your eyes. Maybe I avoid talking to you because I can't take all the criticism. There's no way to stay on top of everything. The things I do manage to do are never good enough, so why should I even bother trying to live up to your impossible standards? We're not all perfect like you, Edward. Some of us are… mortal." I sat back against my seat and brushed my hair away from my face, scowling. "And apparently you didn't notice that the 2x8 has been gone for three weeks. I made sure they finished the walkways in time for the party. You're telling me YOU feel tense around that house? Try being stuck there all the time. I have to put up with the noise, the backhoe digging all day long, the skeevy workmen right outside my windows, blaring their radio station and dropping their cigarette butts everywhere. While inside I get to deal with temper tantrums and poopy diapers and all that friggin' dust. At least you get to escape to work where you're surrounded by adults who respect you."

He scoffed.

"Don't you laugh at me. Until you walk away from the career you've worked so hard for, you'll never know what it's like. Yeah, I used to be happy. I used to have a job I loved, that I was really good at, that gave me a sense of accomplishment. I earned my own money. I had friends there. I had a husband who loved me and showed me some god-damned affection once in awhile. Even when he'd worked three days straight and was exhausted he'd hold me and kiss me and ask me about my day," I recalled, wistfully. "And we had a cute little condo that was cozy and full of mismatched furniture and was so tiny it could be cleaned in an hour. It wasn't fancy, but it was 'us'. I had a great life. I'd worked so hard for it, waited so long for it. And two years into it, I walked away. Willingly. I know it's a privilege to be able to stay home, and I shouldn't complain. Riley's worth the sacrifice. But I had NO IDEA when I left my job that I'd be losing all the rest, too. That was NOT part of the bargain. My whole… life. My sense of self worth, my friends, my husband, my home. I feel like I don't even matter anymore."

He sighed, defeated, and shook his head in tiny movements back and forth, a deep crease between his eyebrows. "I just don't get it, Bella. Or you just don't get me. Everything I do is for you. For you and Riley. I've been trying so hard to reach this goal that we hit last week…"

"The one you didn't tell me anything about even though you've been working on it for half your life? Jeez, Edward. I mean, a twenty year project? Your dad's lifelong dream? God! That was something huge in your life, something really important. And the fact that I knew nothing about it screams that our relationship is just… dead. " I looked at him and bit my lip to keep it from trembling as I tried to sniff away more impending tears.

"I talk about it all the time! Maybe you haven't been listening. God, it's my singular focus. Isn't it obvious? The study, the project, Dr. Snow, Dr. Jenks, my dad, the research. None of this sounds familiar?"

Disparate pieces fell into place. "Those are all the same thing?" I felt like an idiot for not connecting the dots before. I'd always felt like he was sharing tiny bits and pieces about what he does. If they were all pieces of the same project then…

He groaned and dropped his head into his hands. Then he looked me straight in the eye and answered bluntly, "Yes. It didn't have a name until last week. Jenks' marketing group is in charge of branding it, but the idiots couldn't seem to agree on anything until the last minute. But, yes, it's all one thing. Always has been." He shook his head in disbelief. "Anyway, my point is that I've been working my tail off to reach this breakthrough because hopefully it will bring me a promotion and a raise and some recognition. Major recognition-the kind that will give us security in the long run.

It's all been for you, Bella. Everything. So that you will never again have to feel the upheaval and uncertainty that you did growing up with your mom. So that Riley will never have to experience anything like that. So that you can have the life that…"

"That's more like yours?"

He looked hurt. "The life you deserve, Bella. A safe neighborhood, a nice house with room for your books and a kitchen that you love, good schools, the option of leaving your job to raise our kids. I even tried to make some new friends for us, but that backfired, obviously."

"All I've ever wanted to do is provide for you, to keep you safe and happy. It just kills me that I've… failed. I guess the things I've tried to do for you just haven't been the things that you want. I'm sorry." He took a deep breath and stared into space. We were both kind of dazed and numb. "I'm not good at failure, Bella. I don't like not being able to control things around me. I guess maybe that's why I shut down my emotions around you. I reverted back into the introverted science geek that I was before I met you. That guy who doesn't talk to anybody. I need you back. Happy again. I don't know if you even realize it, but you make me a better person, so much better. From the very beginning, the first day, you pulled me out of that isolation. You gave me confidence. I've lost that."

He ran his hands through his hair. "God, what can I do? You tell me. How can I make you happy? 'Cause it sounds like you're saying that you'd be happier without me."

"What? No! What are you talking about?"

He shrugged. "Your job, your money, your friends, your sense of self worth, your… whole life." He sniffed. "How am I supposed to react to that? What is it that you want? Because it sounds like I've ruined your life and you'd be better off without me."

I was stunned into silence. Each of my own words that he lobbed back at me hit like a brick, pounding me with shame and regret. _Oh my god, he's leaving me_. Tears sprung to my eyes. My heart raced. My thoughts jumped through split-second images of memories and dreams, good times and bad. Flashes of our life together. Everything I'd lose if I lost him. A picture of his parents—the perfect happy couple—popped into my consciousness and I grabbed hold and focused on that image for a moment. _No dumping, she'd advised. Put him first_. I imagined us at their age, sitting at his piano as he played Claire de Lune, the song he'd chosen the first time he played for me on the night I knew that he was the one. I had sat next to him, amazed at the beauty that emanated from his fingertips. "I think I'm falling for you," he'd said as the song ended, beating me to the very words I'd felt. "I've never felt like this before." He fidgeted nervously. We'd only known each other a few weeks. "I'm pretty sure that I want to see you walking toward me in a white dress someday. And holding a green eyed baby in your arms. I'd like to see you with streaks of silver in your hair and look into your eyes as I take my last breath." I'd looked up into his eyes which bore into my own with intensity, conviction, and a slight tinge of fear. "You make me a better person, Bella, and I want to be that person, always."

His words had struck me into silence. I'd absorbed them for a moment and realized that I'd like those things, too. "Swans mate for life, you know," I'd warned him. My dad never had gotten over my mom, even after she left him. And I had a feeling I'd never get over Edward Cullen.

"So do Cullens," he'd promised.

I was pulled from the memory by the tinkling strains of the very notes I'd been thinking about. Claire de Lune played through the restaurant sound system. I looked into his eyes as he waited expectantly for a response. Tears trailed down my cheeks, landing in dark spots on the tablecloth and as I looked down at them I noticed a few of his fingers playing along with the music. I wondered if he was visiting the memory I'd just left. I began to twist the ring around my fourth finger. The diamond had always been bigger than I'd wanted—ostentatious, I thought—but I realized in that moment that everything about Edward was bigger, brighter than I was accustomed to: his talents, his success, his house, his love. Part of the problem was that I'd been drowning in it, feeling smaller and smaller. Lost. But was I ready to give up his larger-than-life world altogether so that I could shrink back to my own comfortable, diminutive one, or could I adjust to it, embrace it, support it and pull him back down to size when he needed it? I began to slowly shake my head, "no." My eyes travelled slowly back up to his face, stopping when they met his clouded green orbs.

"I could never be better off without you, Edward. I love you, and whether or not it seems like it, I love you more today than the day I married you. But I want _you_ back. I want to be your friend and your confidante. I want you to love me again. I need to feel important. I don't want an out, Edward, I want to find my way back in. Please don't ever think that. Swans mate for life, remember?" I reached for his hand across the table.

He let out the breath he'd been holding—a sigh of relief—and nodded his head as he took my hand. "So do Cullens," he promised, swiping at the single drop that fell from his eye.

"But we're never going to be the same people we were then. We've grown up."

"Well, we need to figure out who we are now and who we're going to be so that we never slip into this mess again."

"Yeah. We do."

After a few shuddering breaths he composed himself and grabbed for the leather folder our waitress had silently left on the table, scribbling his name on the credit card receipt. "Let's get outta here," he urged, pulling me into a hug before guiding me to the exit, ever the gentleman with a hand on my back. "I love you, Bella," he whispered into my ear. "We'll fix this, I promise."

It was almost closing time and our waitress stood with another at a table near the door, refilling salt shakers and sugar dishes. "Major fight at table 17 tonight," she gossiped to her friend. "Like, divorce material fight. I think she caught him cheating."

"Really?" Her friend urged her on.

"He was gorgeous, too. They both were. You know, one of those couples that looks so perfect that you're almost glad to find out they have the same problems as everybody else."

The friend giggled, "If she dumped him, maybe he'll be looking for a rebound."

Edward cleared his throat, distracting them from their gossip. As our waitress turned and saw us, her face dropped into a sheepish frown.

"No rebound will be necessary, thanks," Edward warned, "but a little discretion would be appreciated."

"I'm so sorry, sir. I…"

"It's fine. Listen, I wanted to apologize for holding up your table all night. I know you probably lost out on a lot of tips because of us, so…" He handed her a folded hundred dollar bill.

She gasped and looked up at us. "Sir, I can't…"

Edward held up his hand. "Please… It's fine." He turned and wrapped his arm around my shoulder, guiding me toward the door. "It's cheaper than a marriage counselor," he muttered.

Instead of exiting toward our car, he turned toward the water, where we could continue our discussion with a moonlit walk along the beach.

I called home to check in with Esme and beg for more time. "Of course, Hon. Riley is great. Grandma and Grandpa had so much fun with him tonight. We just put him down for the night, so take as much time as you need. Are you two having a good talk?"

"Um, yeah. We're not quite ready to come home. We've got a lot more to talk about."

"Oh, good. I'm glad."

"Thanks a lot for watching him and for all your advice."

"Anytime, Sweetheart. We'll just plan to see you in the morning when we all get up."

"K. Thanks."

Edward and I both spoke freely in the uninterrupted privacy away from the restaurant and without the time constraint, admitting that we both wanted to—needed to work hard to reestablish trust and communication and fall back in love. We were able to learn a lot about each other. I hadn't realized how much pressure he put on himself to be successful for the sake of Riley and me. It wasn't all personal ambition, like I'd thought. He really believed that working harder and longer and making more money was the best way to take care of us. _Huh_… He had no idea how overwhelmed and alone I felt in our big, cavernous, impersonal house. He'd heard my complaints, but tonight I helped him understand their basis: With no family nearby and no close friends, the loss of my comfortable little cocoon of a condo had been an unbearable shock. The neighbors and playgroup moms I'd met in our new neighborhood seemed so false and superficial to me, showing off their fancy houses and jewelry. Edward was surprised. There'd been such a crowd at Riley's party, he'd thought that I had lots of good friends. I explained that I felt I didn't belong here and Edward's cold detachment had made me feel even more lonely and unlovable than I already was.

Making friends with Alice recently had been a blessing. And Esme's help decorating the house to make it more homey and personal was helping a lot. But I needed him, too, more than anything else. I needed my other half. He promised to reclaim his status as my best friend by opening up to me again, listening more, and cutting back on his criticism about the house. I promised to take his requests to get it decorated and presentable a bit more seriously and stop being so stubborn.

I learned that Edward faced a significant amount of peer pressure from the other doctors at work. I had no idea how important their status symbols were for fitting in and getting ahead. The cars, the trips, the country club memberships, the vacation homes in Hawaii or Big Bear, the exclusive private schools they sent their kids to as soon as they turned three, the shopping sprees and plastic surgery they "complained" about their wives demanding, and the houses. Oh, the houses. There was so much pressure and one-upmanship about having a house befitting a successful, elite M.D. at the renowned Scripps Greene Hospital. Size, location, amenities, décor, art, ocean view were all compared and scrutinized. He made these doctors sound worse than the catty women I faced at playgroup. The stakes were certainly higher. And the price tags… His description of them explained a lot about why he'd wanted our house so badly, and why he put so much pressure on me to get it looking perfect. He warned me apologetically that he'd been asked several times when we'd be having everyone over for a housewarming party.

"Maybe we can bring the backhoe again, to shovel up all my colleagues' bulls-"

I laughed, happy to have lighthearted Edward back with me. But then my thoughts turned serious. "Edward, we both need to stop letting these people who we don't even like control us." I pointed from him to me and back. "This needs to be the most important thing. The only thing." He agreed and we talked a lot about what was most important to us. What _we_ wanted out of life.

It was getting too cold and dark to walk along the beach, so we found a place to stop in for a drink. Edward scooted into the booth right next to me instead of across the table, sitting so close our legs pressed against each other. He lifted his arm around my shoulders and ran his fingers through my hair. I put my hand on his thigh and leaned my head on his shoulder, enjoying the closeness I'd been missing so desperately. We could have talked all night, but we needed to get home to bed. He had to work early in the morning.

"Just promise me that you're still going to be acting like this tomorrow? Tell me I'm not going to wake up and find that tonight was just a dream," I implored.

"I swear," he held up his little finger, hooking it around mine to seal the agreement. He used it to pull my hand to his chest and placed his hand over mine that covered his heart. "Let's never go back to that, ok?" We both knew that it would be a long, hard road, but tonight had been a good start.

"Deal." He leaned in to kiss me gently on the lips. Gentle kisses gave way to passionate ones, and soon he had to push himself away from me, breathless. "We'd better go."

At home I headed straight for the stairs, but he pulled my hand toward the front of the house where his piano sat, gleaming in the moonlight. He sat down and played our song as I stood behind him, watching his fingers dance over the keys as I massaged his shoulders and kissed the top of his head. When the song was over I leaned over and whispered into his ear, "Right now, right here, you make me so happy, Edward Cullen." He turned sideways on the bench, pulling me around to face him as he wrapped his arms around my hips and buried his face against my chest. I ran my fingers through his hair, took his hands, and led him upstairs. My eyes drifted toward Riley's room. The mom in me wanted to check on him, but I turned toward our suite instead. Edward came first.

As soon as the door clicked shut, Edward wrapped me in his arms, nuzzling his face in my hair. We stumbled awkwardly to the bedroom, unwilling to let go of each other. We dropped our clothes on the floor and snuggled on the bed, curled against each other, legs entwined. His slow, sensual kisses covered my face, my neck, my arms, my hands, and warmed my soul. It had been so long since I'd felt so loved, so cherished. I returned his love, covering my husband with gentle kisses and caresses as the soft strains of DeBussy played over and over in my mind. He pulled me close and murmured in my ear, "I need you." His hand moved to my breast, thumb brushing the tip, causing it to harden. As he moved his mouth to suckle, his hands drifted toward my panties. I grabbed his wrist, and returned his confused look with one of regret, hating to remind him that it wasn't a good time for me. I reached between our bellies and stroked him over his underwear in a silent offer to take care of him. He hissed slightly, trying to stifle his reaction as he placed his finger over my lips and shook his head. "Shh. I need you, Bella. That doesn't matter." He replaced his fingers with his soft lips, cupping my face tenderly and preventing further objections with slow, open-mouthed kisses. When he came up for air, I excused myself to the bathroom, promising to come right back.

I returned with a towel and some damp wash cloths, finding that he'd turned down the covers and lit a dim light. I admired the way he looked in his boxer briefs as he leaned over the bed to spread the towel and wrapped my arms around him from behind as he stood up, placing a kiss on his back and holding him tight, my cheek against his spine. He spun around to face me and rocked us back and forth in his embrace, slow dancing to the tune of our thoughts. "I love you, Bella. So much." I nodded, head on his shoulder, too emotional to speak. He tried to apologize, but I drowned his words with a kiss as my hands smoothed over his back. I'd had enough talking for the night and just needed to feel. We stood holding each other, skin to skin, heartbeat to heartbeat, breath to breath, until we felt we were one. My fingers slipped under his waistband to feel the curve of his backside and he mirrored my action as I slid his underwear to the floor before he gently lowered me to the bed. Edward combed his fingers through my hair and rolled half on top of me to deliver a single deep, wet kiss. I smiled against his lips and wrapped my arms around his neck, happy to have my husband back, happy for us. We gazed into each other's eyes for a long moment, his finger caressing the curve of my ear; mine combing the hair at the nape of his neck.

"Oh, Isabella, how did I ever get so lucky?" Smiling, I grasped his shoulder and pulled him on top of me, relishing the warmth of his skin on mine, the security of his weight covering me. "You're so precious," he murmured, leaning closer to kiss my temple. "You're all I've ever wanted, all that I'll ever need." I widened my knees and shifted my hips to position him at my entrance. "Ohhhhh," he moaned as he slowly pushed inside me.

"Ahhhh," I sighed, feeling him fill me, inch by inch. We both paused, clinging to each other, eyes closed, with him fully seated inside me. After a few stuttering breaths, I opened my eyes to find his clouded with emotion. He touched his forehead to mine and retreated slowly, pulling almost all the way out. He sucked in a sharp breath and pressed back in gradually, whispering "Oh, my Bella," as a crease formed between his brows. I watched him, trance-like, smoothing my hands along his back, his sides, his broad shoulders, as he slowly made love to me, whispering sweet words with each meeting of our hips. I wished I could stay there forever with him.

"Can you feel it, too?" he asked, breathlessly. I was too overcome to respond with more than a nod and a whimper. This was special. This was so much more than just sex—more than a physical connection. Together we were letting go of the hurt and anger, pushing aside the misunderstanding and fear that tugged at the seams of our marriage. Together we were building something stronger, weaving a blanket of love and commitment to wrap ourselves in, to protect our love from the forces that tried to pull us apart, even when those forces faced us in the mirror.

Edward took my hand as it wiped away a tear. "Don't cry, my love," he breathed between slow thrusts. He brought my dampened finger to his lips, surprising me by pulling it inside his mouth. He released my knuckle after swirling his tongue around a few times and guided it between our slowly writing bodies. With his hand atop mine, I found the spot, he gave the pressure and speed to build a fire inside me, to ignite flames that warmed me from within and to set off an explosion of bliss which pushed his body to climax moments later, leaving us trembling in each others' arms, trying to catch our breath. We lay together, still connected for several minutes, absorbing all that had passed between us that night. I began to feel a chill from our cooling sweat, and reached for the towels I'd brought to clean us up. I was loathe for our lovemaking to end, fearing the loss of our newfound connection. "Thank you, Bella. I love you. I won't let you down again," Edward reassured me. As our bodies separated I knew that our hearts were still connected.

I came back to bed after cleaning up and checking on Riley and snuggled in next to him.

"Edward?" I asked, pulling the covers over us.

"Hmm?" I could tell he was almost asleep. The man could fall asleep in seconds and was completely oblivious to noise, light, or other distractions once he was out. It was a skill he'd picked up by necessity during his residency.

"Thanks for tonight, for everything." I whispered in his ear. "I love you."

"Mmm… You too." He pulled me against his chest and was out for the night.

The next morning, I blinked my eyes open to find Edward, kneeling next to my side of the bed. He kissed my forehead, ran his fingers through my hair, and murmured,

"Don't wake up, Babe, it's only 5:00. I just wanted to kiss you goodbye and let you know that last night wasn't a dream."

I closed my eyes and smiled. "Mmmm, good… thanks!"

"I love you."

"Love you too. Have a good day." I yawned. "Are you at the conference again?"

"Yeah, but I need to go in to the hospital first, so I have to get going. Love you. Bye," and he was gone.

I got another hour of sleep before Master Riley climbed into my bed, chattering all about what he did with his grandparents the night before. _Ugh. Time to start another day_. At least I could smell coffee already brewing downstairs. I snuggled my little guy close to me and smelled his sweet baby smell, which calmed us both down and bought me ten more minutes of quiet, which I used to reflect on all that Edward and I had talked about last night. I smiled, hopeful for a happier future.

Carlisle attended the conference again that day, too, so Esme and I visited some furniture stores on Miramar Rd. in the morning and then took Riley to story hour at the library. I sat with him in the children's section while Esme browsed the grown-up part of the library. We listened to the librarian read the week's selection of books with animated voices for each of the characters. Since Father's Day was coming up, the theme seemed to be daddy sea creatures and their kids. After the books and couple of songs, we moved to the tables and worked on a craft—a paper fish with a string attached to its mouth that Riley scribbled on with crayons. The string ran through a drinking straw, so you could cast the fishing line out or pull on it to reel the fish in. Very cute. We shared a table with the cutest little Asian boys—identical twins—who looked to be about Riley's age, and were teaching him the two "M" words—Me and Mine. _Great_!

"How old are they?" I asked their harried mother, who was visibly pregnant.

"They're 28 months and they think they own the world. Want one?" she joked.

I laughed. "Riley just turned two, so I guess he's not far behind them. Nice to know what's coming up. I can't imagine him, times two!"

"They're a handful, that's for sure… Joshua, we don't eat the crayons. Take it out of your mouth, please… I'm Angela Chen-Yee, by the way. We just moved here recently from Washington State. My husband started working for Qualcomm."

"Really? Well, welcome to San Diego! I'm Bella Cullen… What a nice purple fish, Riley. Let's cut him out now so we can put him on the fishing pole. Here you go... Where in Washington are you from? My husband grew up in Seattle."

"He did? We just moved from there! What a small world. I met my husband at U-Dub and we've lived in Seattle since college. I actually grew up in a little town called Forks about four hours from Seattle on the peninsula, though."

Esme had joined us, "Oh, you're from Forks? Do you know Joe Newton? I went to high school with him."

"Angela, this is my mother-in-law, Esme Cullen. Esme, this is Angela and her boys are Joshua and…" I couldn't remember the second twin's name. "Ok, Ri. Let's attach your fish to the fishing pole."

"Joshua and Isaac." She pointed them out as she called their names.

They chatted about Washington for awhile. "How long have you been in San Diego?" Esme asked.

"Monday will be a month. I still have lots of unpacking to do, but I have to get them out of the house once in awhile or we'll all go crazy!"

"Do you live around here? We're in a playgroup that meets on Tuesdays at Community Park. You should join us!"

"I'd love that."

We chatted some more as the kids finished their projects, and exchanged phone numbers so we could get together. Angela seemed very down to earth and… normal. I was glad to meet someone I connected with who had kids Riley's age, and looked forward to getting to know her better.

"She seems like a nice girl," Esme said after Angela and her boys left, "She's got her hands full, doesn't she?"

"Really! And another one coming soon. Wow, she's brave."

"My girlfriend Carmen has three kids—not twins, but three. I was always in awe of how she handled it all. Her husband traveled all the time for work, too, poor thing! We used to swap babysitting every other week for date nights. It was really loud when all five kids were together!"

"That's a good idea. How long did you do the swap?"

"I wish we'd started much sooner. Her youngest was almost a year old—I think Edward was about six or seven—and we kept it going pretty regularly until the kids were old enough to watch themselves. We started it when I was in the 'relationship repair' mode with Carlisle. It really helped to have some time to spend alone with him."

"Hmm…"

"Speaking of which, I picked out some books you might like. These are some that I found helpful in getting things back on track for us. This one is more recent," she held up _The 5 Love Languages_, "but I've read it and it's great. The pastor who took over at Trinity when Carlisle's dad retired makes all of his brides and grooms read it before he'll marry them. Anyway, I'm not trying to butt in, but they were helpful for me, so…"

"Thanks, Esme, I'll check them out."

"I also picked up a couple of design books that you could look through for ideas for the house. Since we finished the home office on this trip, what do you say we tackle the master suite next? I can't wait to help make it a beautiful, romantic getaway for you two."

I blushed at what she was insinuating. "Oh, Esme, thank you so much! You have no idea how much I appreciate all your help. I hate that you're working when you're on vacation. But…"

"Honey, it's nothing! It's something I love to do, especially for you two, so it's not like working at all."

"Actually, though… I'd love to do the bedroom, but Edward mentioned that people at work are wondering when we'll be having them over for a housewarming party, so he'd really like to get the more public areas downstairs finished. Do you think we could finish the dining room first?"

"Of course! That will be easy. He's feeling the pressure, huh, the one-upmanship?"

I nodded, "Did Carlisle get that, too?"

Esme sighed and rolled her eyes, "Still does. It's awful. And it doesn't get any better as time passes. These guys have so much and they just goad each other into getting more, more, more and showing it off to everyone. There's not a month that goes by without one of Carlisle's partners hosting a dinner party to show off some new art or a giant flatscreen, or inviting the guys out on a new boat or up to their ski cabin or whatever. I'm sorry to hear that Edward's coworkers are following the same pattern."

"He talked a lot about that last night. How there's so much pressure… It helped me understand some of the things he does a little better."

"I'm so glad you had a good long talk. I hope you can keep those lines of communication open for each other."

I smiled.

"As for the pressure to entertain and show off your latest and greatest, one thing I figured out that helps is to pick an event or two, or maybe something quarterly, it depends on your group of people, and make those your signature events. For us, everyone in Carlisle's group knows that the Cullens host the annual Back to School BBQ in August, and the Valentine's spa day for the wives, so they're not constantly prodding us to host something else."

"You host something just for the wives?"

"Oh yes! It's actually a lot of fun. There are a handful of the ladies who just like to get together to gossip and boast, but most of the partner's wives have become really good friends over the years. We all get together at my house on Valentine's Day morning. I hire someone to give massages, someone to do our nails, an aesthetician to give facials, and of course Shelly comes over with her Passionista stuff. And we have champagne and chocolate—lots of chocolate! The guys love it, too, because the girls come home relaxed and happy and ready to really celebrate Valentine's Day."

"That sounds fun"

"It is. Anyway, back to the house. We can finish the dining room up pretty quickly and get you ready to host a housewarming party. You do such a great job with your parties, Bella."

"Thanks. Kids parties are fun to plan. We'll see how I do with events for grown ups!"

"You'll do great! So, take a look through these books and the magazines you get at home and note what you like in dining rooms and in bedrooms. Have Edward do the same and we'll come up with something that you both love."

"I can't wait!"

"I'm not sure when we'll be back again, but we could do a lot by phone and email." That reminded me that she and Carlisle would be leaving tomorrow and made me sad and a little apprehensive.

"Do you have to go?" I pouted. We'd grown so close during this trip. Would I be able to manage everything I was going through with Edward without her to lean on?

**A/N **

That's halfway through, my dears! The later chapters tend to be longer, like this one.

For those of you who don't know Spanish, La Jolla is pronounced "La Hoya."

Big Bear is a beautiful little town in the mountains about 4 hours from San Diego. There's a lake and ski resorts for year round fun. Many Southern Californians have vacation homes there (or rent cabins for weekend getaways.)

_The 5 Love Languages_ by Dr. Gary Chapman is a great relationship book. Read It! Have your spouse read it! A lot of Esme's advice is borrowed from there.

I created a Facebook page for The Fantasy Basket. I will post a picture of Torrey Pines beach in La Jolla featured in this chapter. It also shows the cliffs where Bella & Edward got engaged.

I LOVE hearing that some of you are creating your own Fantasy Baskets. For every review you leave, I'll send you a fantasy to try out with your own special someone. (Yes, I'm resorting to bribery now. I have no shame.)

This chapter was SOOOOO HARD to get right. **Besotted** deserves to be named as a co-author on this one, seriously! She never lets me take the easy or trite way out. We owe a lot of Bella & Edward's depth to her. Many thanks!

And many thanks to you for reading! Please leave me a note to let me know what you thought.

Jen

Twitter: JenEsmeFF

9106 words

Torrey Pines State Beach & Reserve (bluffs of the nature reserve over road on left)


	12. Chapter 11, Esme: Valentine's Day

**The Fantasy Basket**

**By JenEsme**

**Inspired by Stephenie Meyers' Twilight series. No infringement intended.**

**Chapter 11—Esme: Valentine's Day**

**Posted June 27, 2012**

**Please Review!**

February 1991

_I hope I didn't miss too much_, I thought as I rushed from the first grade hallway to Emmett's fifth grade classroom. The boys' school scheduled all parties on Fridays and both of their teachers had chosen the same time for their Valentine's celebrations. Edward's class had a lot of fun playing Bingo with Conversation Heart markers and decorating heart shaped cookies with frosting and red sprinkles. It was cute. Messy, but cute. As I hurried to catch the second half of Em's party, I hoped I hadn't missed seeing them distribute their Valentine cards. I had noticed Emmett making an extra special, handmade card for a girl in his class. He taped twice as much candy on it and signed it 'Love, Emmett' instead of just scribbling his name at the bottom like he did for his other classmates. I couldn't wait to see how it all played out. I hoped she'd be kind and not break his little 10 year old heart.

I realized that I probably wouldn't get to witness many more moments like this with Emmett. They won't have parties for me to plan or art classes for me to teach in middle school next fall and he's starting to feel the need for more privacy. Last week I walked into his room to put away some laundry and he got so upset. "Mom, I'm in my underwear!" he complained, quickly pulling on his pajamas. _Oops!_ We had a talk about keeping your door closed and knocking first. What a contrast to Eddie-Bear, who still wants me to give him a bath and sit by the tub reading aloud while he splashes with his toys!

After Em's party, where I witnessed the adorable interaction between Emmett and his first crush, it hit me: _What am I going to do when they don't need me so much anymore?_

I had never imagined that my life would be so focused on my children. When I was young and working in Laurent's gallery, I saw myself as a lifelong career woman, a mover and shaker in the Seattle art community. I vaguely thought of having a child someday—maybe two if it didn't disrupt my life too much—but that would just be a bump in the road, a few months or maybe a year off before I was back to real life. And then I had Emmett and my whole world changed. No, it didn't simply change, it ground to a halt and started spinning the other way on its axis, so radically did my thinking change. I looked down one day at this tiny creature that Carlisle and I had somehow, by some miracle from God created out of nothing but our love for each other, and I knew I couldn't leave him.

I watched that day, so soon after he was born, as he squirmed and accidentally separated from my breast with a little pop. His tiny hands patted their objection against me. His mouth opened wide, seeking what he'd lost. After just a few seconds, he found my nipple again and latched back on with a baby grunt, sucking quickly, eagerly, voraciously, desperate to restore his world to its proper balance. _I_ was that world to him. Once nourishment and comfort were securely re-established, he looked up at me. His round grey eyes that hadn't yet turned blue were hooded and almost drunk looking with relief. Milk pooled at the corners of his tiny mouth as his tongue lapped and his toothless jaws suckled, urging the tingling response in my body to let down the milk that was his sole source of nourishment and growth and survival. I knew at that moment that the nanny we'd hired to care for Emmett when I returned to work the following month could never provide my young son with all that I could, no matter how caring and loving and experienced she was with infants. No. Just… NO!

Carlisle was supportive. He'd wanted me to stay home for at least a year all along. And so my life made an abrupt U-turn, and here I am a full decade later. The kids are my world—them and the house. Or rather I should say, _Carlisle_ and the kids and the house—I've got to remember to think of him first. The kids won't be around forever. Anyway, the only thing resembling a 'job' that I do is volunteering for the school and a lot of that will go away next fall when Emmett starts middle school. In four years, Edward will be there, too. Then, pretty soon they'll be driving and they won't even need me to taxi them around anymore. Then they'll go off to college and be gone. Gone for good. Oh my god! What am I going to do? I don't see myself as a society lady, sitting on boards and planning fundraisers like Kate does, so I suppose I should think about going back to work. Could I even make it in a job like my old one? Could an almost 40 year old who hasn't worked in a decade break back into the youth-worshipping art scene? I've lost touch with all the people I knew back then. I have no idea how to use the new technology that's out there now. I have this beeper from Carlisle, but I've never used email, never sent a fax. Jeez…

I pulled into the driveway of my friend Kate's new house and took a few deep breaths to calm myself down. _Stop freaking out, Es! OK…_ I stepped out of my car and knocked on the front door of her beautiful new home, ready for a tour.

"Oh, Kate, I love your new place. Just look at this view. I can imagine the two of you sitting here in matching club chairs," I gestured the way I would situate them, facing the large picture window, "looking out over the lake and reading or working on one of your beautiful needlepoints."

Kate tilted her head and smiled at the image. "You've got such good ideas, Esme. In 15 minutes, you've painted a perfect picture of the warm, inviting home that I want to live in. How do you do that?"

I shrugged. "The ideas just pop into my head. I see a picture of how a room should be lived in. It stems from my art background, I guess."

"Well, it's a real talent. Your house is absolutely beautiful. If I can make mine look anything close to what you've got, then we'll be really happy here."

"I'm sure you will."

"Speaking of beautiful, I'm sure your party is going to be fabulous. Do you have everything ready for tomorrow?" I was planning my first annual Valentine's Day Pampering Party for the wives of all the doctors from Carlisle's medical group.

"Almost. I have a few finishing touches left to do."

"Do you think Victoria will show up?"

I rolled my eyes. "I have no idea. She hasn't RSVP'd and I'm not about to call and beg her to come."

"I can't believe you invited her at all."

"I know, but I just invited everyone. I didn't want to single anyone out. Trying to be the bigger person, you know?"

"Well, you're a much bigger person than I would be in that situation," Kate responded. "I kind of hope she doesn't come. She'll make it awkward."

"It'll be fine, Kate. Carlisle won't be there, so what could she do?"

Kate raised her eyebrows.

"What?" I wondered what she was thinking.

"I just don't want you to get hurt, Esme."

"Thanks, but Carlisle has always attracted attention. I'm kind of used to it. People aren't normally as forward as Victoria, but unfortunately, I've learned to live with women ogling him," I sighed.

"You know he's only got eyes for you, right? That man worships you. Now more than ever."

I smiled, shyly.

"I don't mean to pry, but did you guys go to counseling or something? This past year or so, the two of you seem different, happier."

"Really? You've noticed?"

"Definitely. And Garrett has, too. He works so closely with Carlisle, you know. Says he's got a new spring in his step."

I snickered. "We haven't seen anyone, but we've been working through some things on our own. Trying to communicate better, you know?"

"Well, whatever you're doing, keep it up. It's good to see."

"Thanks. We will." I smiled to myself.

The Valentine Party was a huge success among the doctor's wives. It seemed to suit the snobbier part of the group as well as the more down to earth side. The gals and I sipped champagne and nibbled on hors d'oeuvres and chocolate in between visits to vendors who were set up in different rooms of my house to help everyone prepare for Valentine's dates with their husbands. We got our nails done, backs massaged, faces exfoliated and moisturized, hair coiffed, makeup applied, and could even shop for clothes, purses, and jewelry. Of course, the gossip was flowing, and the biggest buzz of all was the story of Victoria Hunter coming on to Carlisle (sans panties, rumor had it) and the explosive fight the Hunters had afterwards. Apparently, he had slept at the hospital for a few days after the incident. I wasn't worried about her attending the party. Surely she wouldn't have the audacity to set foot in my home. Or maybe she would! Her breathy, Marilyn Monroe-like voice assaulted my ears in the middle of a wonderful, relaxing massage and I instantly tensed up. _What a lot of nerve!_ The masseur wondered what had happened in the middle of my treatment. "Just an unwelcome guest, I'm afraid. I'm sorry to cut this short. It felt wonderful while it lasted."

"Victoria… What a surprise. I didn't think you'd make it," I welcomed her coldly.

"Oh, Esme, I wouldn't miss it for the world. I've heard you have a beautiful home and I've been eager to see it." She looked around with her nose turned up, seemingly unimpressed. "So sorry I didn't RSVP. I had a potential conflict with my schedule that didn't clear up until this morning." She tossed her long red curls haughtily.

"Well, lucky for you."

"Yes." She smiled, wickedly.

Kate stepped in to save me. "Victoria, you made it. We are having so much fun. You've just got to try out the…" She led her into another room with a pitying look back toward me and I let out a long breath I hadn't realized I'd been holding. I made a decision then and there. This was _my_ party. _My_ house. _MY_ husband. I was determined to enjoy them and would not allow Victoria to wield any control over me again. I held my head high and joined my guests, even the unwanted one.

I approached Kate and our friend Diana.

"…couldn't believe it. She was just pulling ideas out of her head right and left. And they were just perfect. The designer we hired has been working on it for two months and has yet to come up with _anything_ that I like."

"Esme's incredible. Just look at this. It's like looking out onto a little street in Europe or something. The fountain and the café table and the stones… and the street lamp—what a great touch! I bet she's got beautiful flowers all around it in the summer, too."

"Hi girls. Are you having fun?"

"Oh, Esme," Diana enthused, "we were admiring your patio. It's like looking out the French doors into another time and place. It's absolutely beautiful."

"Oh, thank you. I just re-did that. It's my little corner of Paris, right here in Seattle," I sighed wistfully, making the girls laugh.

Victoria overheard us as she walked past with a plate full of hors d'oeuvres. "Hmm. It is very quaint," she sniffed nodding toward the patio. "It looks like something from one of the _older_ areas. We didn't spend much time _there_. Jamie took me to Paris last year. We stayed right along the Champs Elysees and ate at three different Michelin-rated restaurants. 'Nothing but the best for my best girl' he said!" she cooed. "I had just gotten liposuction before we went, and he took me shopping at _all_ the designer showrooms because he wanted me to get something pretty to show off my pretty new ass. Isn't that sweet?"

_Classy! _I thought as I nodded and smiled_. _

"I just love my plastic surgeon," she whispered behind her hand, "I can give you his name if anyone's interested." She looked condescendingly at Diana, who had been struggling to lose the baby weight she'd gained last year. Then she looked at me, "He's great with boobs, too, if you know anyone who needs some."

"Hmm. No thanks! But it sounds like you had a nice trip," I responded dryly.

"It was wonderful. You should go there sometime, Esme. It may give you some more ideas if this," she waved her hand toward the patio, "is your thing."

"Well, actually…"

She interrupted, raising her voice so others would be sure to hear her boasting. "I personally like a more modern look. Siobhan O'Leary designed _my_ house. Did you see her work last spring in Architectural Digest? She's the very best interior designer in all of the Pacific Northwest."

Thankfully, I was called away. A hostess's job is never done. And sometimes, I learned, it's a messy job. I had one of those new chocolate fountains on the snack table. Someone had accidentally dropped a strawberry in and it clogged the pump. As I tried to fish it out, the darn thing splattered chocolate all over my white silk blouse. I rushed upstairs to soak it and change into something clean, stopping short when I found someone in my bedroom. It was Victoria, standing next to my bed.

"What are you doing in here?" I demanded.

"Oh, just admiring the rest of your house." She smiled and turned to face me, one hand tapping the tall bedpost. "This is where the magic happens, huh?" she purred, smacking her lips. I was dumbfounded for a moment. "I love what you've done in here." She sat down and ran her hands along the comforter.

"Get up! What is your problem?" I yelled. "For heaven's sake, he's _married_. HAPPILY! I shouldn't need to remind you that _you're_ married, too."

Victoria rolled her eyes, "Yes, well..." she shook her head with a look of chagrin and then narrowed her eyes at me. "I just wanted to return the favor."

"What?"

"Don't play coy with me," she snapped.

"I have no idea what you're talking about, Victoria. Now get your liposuctioned butt off my bed. NOW!"

She stood, towering over me in her Gucci heels from Paris and poking me in the chest. "Keep your mitts off my husband," she demanded.

"What? You're the one chasing MY husband!"

She groaned. "You really have no clue, do you? How he looks at you every time we come to one of these stupid doctor parties? How every week I have to hear him go on and on about how 'Esme brought Carlisle lunch today' and all the gourmet meals you make him. You're just the perfect little domestic wifey that Jamie's always wanted."

I was shocked. "What?"

"Oh, don't play dumb, Esme, it doesn't suit you. You know exactly what you're doing. You turn all the doctors' heads and then have a party just for their wives. Butter them up and get them to like you so they won't poke your eyes out, huh? It's a pretty shrewd move. I'm just trying to beat you at your own game. You've got my husband's attention, so I want yours."

"Victoria, I have never flirted with Dr. Hunter or any of Carlisle's other colleagues. I don't know where you're getting these ideas, but they're completely unwarranted. YOU, on the other hand, have made a spectacle of yourself, behaving like a common slut around Carlisle. Your shenanigans last week were all anyone could talk about downstairs before you got here. How do you think that makes your husband feel?"

Victoria was taken aback, "Uh…"

"Maybe if you turned your attention toward your own husband, you wouldn't have to chase after other people's. I have no interest in James. If he has some sort of attraction to me, that's his problem, and yours. But Carlisle? Carlisle is MINE. He has been since he was 19 years old and I do everything I can to keep his attention on ME, so Back. The Hell. Off."

"Hmph!" She tossed her orange mop of hair. "That's ok. I've given up on Carlisle anyway. He's the only man I've ever met who's immune to this." She ran her hand down her body. "He may have a pretty face, but he's way too repressed for me." She laughed, "Either that, or he's GAY."

"You left an option out, Victoria." She turned her head to the side, questioning. "Maybe he's not interested in you because he's completely and utterly satisfied with _me_."

"Yeah, right," she scoffed.

"Get out. Get out of my room. Get out of my home. And don't come back. Ever." I stood, one hand on my hip, pointing at the door until she slithered away. I took a deep breath, trying to calm my frayed nerves, and rushed to change my chocolate-splattered blouse. I sighed with relief when I heard the door slam downstairs.

"You're kidding. She just left?" Carlisle lifted a bite to his mouth at dinner that night. We were enjoying Valentine's Day at a fancy and kid-free restaurant.

"Well, I think she left part of her tires on our street, but, yes, she just stormed off."

"I wish I could have seen that. My big, strong girl." He grinned.

I shrugged. "What can I say? I've gotta protect my man."

He shook his head in amazement. "So this was all about jealousy and revenge, huh? Unbelievable."

"Carlisle, you have to know that I've never done anything to encourage Dr. Hunter. I've never even noticed…"

"Of course not, Es. If Hunter really has taken a shine to you, he's been smart enough to keep it to himself. Although he does ask me about your excellent cooking! Yours is better than this, you know," he indicated his plate.

"You think so?" My heart filled with gratitude. I reached across the table to stroke his cheek and he gazed silently into my eyes, drowning me in a sea of bright Caribbean blue. He turned his face toward my hand, grazing it with his soft lips,captivating me as I brushed my fingers around the curve of his ear and trailed them softly along his jaw. I dropped my hand to the table where his awaited, catching mine and locking our fingers to join our locked eyes.

Carlisle and I enjoyed a wonderful Valentine's dinner date. It was such an improvement over the year before. We talked, we laughed, we loved. Awkward, uncomfortable silences were a thing of the past. Stilted, cold conversations focused on work or the boys were left behind, replaced by the witty, affectionate banter of two people in love. I was disappointed that it had come to an end as we stood in the cold February air, waiting for the valet to bring the car around. Carlisle stood behind me and wrapped me in his arms and his coat, complaining that the shawl I'd brought was not enough.

"It goes with the dress."

"It's not the dress I care about. See, you're freezing." His hand wandered into territory not fit for public viewing and found proof of my chill. Luckily, it was hidden by his coat.

I squealed, "Carlisle! Your hands are freezing! Keep those to yourself, you naughty boy!" I reached around and smacked his backside playfully.

He chuckled and guided me toward the car. "Just trying to help warm you up!"

"Hey, did I tell you about Emmett?" The valet closed my door as Carlisle slammed his and cranked up the heater. "I think he has a little crush."

"Really?" Carlisle's eyes lit up with amusement as I described how our normally outgoing son had become very shy and quiet when the object of his affection pulled his valentine from her box during the party at school. When she looked across the room and smiled at him, he blushed. It was adorable. And he was in such a good mood, he didn't tease his brother all afternoon. "Well," Carlisle noted, blowing out a gust of air, "I guess it's time to have a father-son talk." I gasped at yet another realization that our little boy was growing up.

I shared my thoughts about looking for a job and was surprised that my husband supported me either way, offering some helpful suggestions. He didn't try to talk me out of it. He didn't focus on the negatives that would come of it. He only wanted me to feel happy and fulfilled. _Wow. Who is this guy?_

"Where are we going?" I was bewildered as Carlisle bypassed the exit that led home and zipped along the freeway, taking us deeper into the city. We parked under a downtown high rise and took the elevator all the way to the top. The doors slid open and we were met with loud music, flashing lights, and a neon sign that read "Twilight."

"You're taking me dancing?" I looked at him curiously. He hates to dance. I couldn't remember if he'd EVER taken me to a club before. We'd danced a little at weddings, the annual hospital holiday party, various fundraising galas, and maybe once or twice on vacations before we had kids, but clubs were strictly girls' night out territory for me, and even that had been at least a few years.

"You love it," he answered, "and I want you to have fun tonight."

"You are so, so sweet." I punctuated my words with quick kisses, gave him a big hug and pulled him toward the bar. He definitely needed to relax a little first. We didn't stay long. He bounced and swayed awkwardly through The B-52s Love Shack (one of Emmett's favorites) and two or three other songs before pulling me close for a slow dance. I was relieved for the slow song, to be honest. It's difficult to let loose with him because he's so uncomfortable and he dances like… well, like a 41 year old white guy. Kind of embarrassing. Carlisle more than made up for it with the slow dance, though. The Wilson sisters' sultry crooning of "All I Wanna Do Is Make Love To You" was so sexy. To hear that while Carlisle's body was pressed against mine, his hands smoothing down my back and resting low on my hips, his hot breath in my ear, his musky scent mingled with his subtle cologne as our hips swayed together to the music made me melt.

"Take me home," I murmured into his ear as the song drew to a close. In 20 minutes, we were there, sending the babysitter on her way. In five more we were in our bedroom, naked, our clothes littering a trail to the bed where we'd dropped them as soon as the door clicked shut behind us. Carlisle found the Fantasy Basket card I'd left on his pillow earlier and set it on the bedside table without looking at it. "Later. I want you, now." He sat on the edge of the bed and pulled me toward him.

I nodded urgently and sat on his lap, straddling him. I rubbed my pelvis against his as we kissed,coating him with my arousal, and then I leaned back and perched a little higher, guiding him into me as I slid down onto his lap with a moan. He thrust his hips upward as I used my knees to lift and drop my body around his, over and over. Moments later, we stilled. He filled me completely. I sighed and began to swivel my hips, grunting with each revolution as he hit my sweet spot. He took my nipples into his mouth, one after the other, kissing and sucking as I dug my fingers into his shoulders, so close to bliss. I sped my hips up and began panting quickly, calling out to God as I finally exploded with pulses of searing heat and light.

As I calmed down, he continued, laying back on the bed for a new, even deeper angle. I leaned forward and placed my hands on his chest as I moved my hips with his, lightheaded and needing the leverage to keep my balance. I lay down over him, grasping one shoulder and pulling, urging him to roll us. "Ohhhh," I moaned when felt his weight and his heat cover me as he resumed his thrusting. "Ohhhh yes. That's so good." I lifted my knees and used my feet against the bed to push up into him with all my might, closer… harder… more… He sped and arched his back, pressing into me harder… closer… faster. He suddenly jerked and tensed, groaning loudly. I watched his face in awe as he came—eyes squeezed shut, jaw tightly clenched one moment, and completely relaxed the next. He smiled and touched his forehead to mine.

"Mmm… I love you," he hummed into my ear.

"Thanks for being my Valentine," I returned. We cuddled together for awhile, parting reluctantly so that we could clean up and prepare for sleep. When I came back to bed after picking up my discarded clothes and washing my face, I found him reading the rejected fantasy card.

"This sounds delicious." He grinned. "Can we try it on Tuesday?"

"Sure," I promised.

"Twice in one week, huh?"

"I think I can find room in my schedule."

"There's a new study out, you know," he told me.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. They showed conclusively that people who make love twice a week add three years onto their lives. In terms of heart health, anyway."

"So they get to enjoy each other, what is it… 300-something more times?"

"Ha—I never thought of it that way. It'd be 312."

"312. We can't forget those extra 12. That used to be a whole year's worth for us."

"That was all? No! Really?"

I nodded.

"Well, we've got some catching up to do." He snickered and pulled me to his chest, spooning. "Good night, my love. Happy Valentine's Day." He kissed my temple as he held me close and drifted off to sleep.

**A/N**

Thanks to Dr. Oz for the fun heart health fact. I know he wasn't doing his thing in 1990, but let's pretend he was.

I was thrilled last week when the number of people reading The Fantasy Basket almost doubled. 1300+ readers—WOW! You guys are great for reading, recommending, and tweeting.

Do you have a favorite Valentine's memory? Please leave me a review and let me know I'll send you the fantasy from the card they set aside and you can share it with your special someone. If reviews reach 300 this week, I will finish the lemon that I started writing for that card and post it as an outtake. That's less than 1% of you. I know you can do it.

**Besotted** helps me spell the French words right. Thanks for that, and everything else!

Thanks for reading!

JEN

Twitter: JenEsmeFF


	13. Chapter 12Part 1, Bella: Edward's Bday

**The Fantasy Basket**

**By JenEsme**

**Inspired by Stephenie Meyers' Twilight series. No infringement intended.**

**Chapter 12 (part 1)—Bella: Edward's Birthday**

**Posted 7/5/12**

**Please Review!**

June 12-21, 2012

"…Mike and I are totally compatible. My love language is gifts and his is recognition, so it, like, totally feeds my shopping addiction. He lets me go out and buy pretty much whatever I want, so I get my gifts, and I always make a point to look really good and dress the kids in the best stuff so that he gets recognition for having a hot wife and cute kids."

"Oh Jessica, you're so lucky. It sounds like you guys are a perfect match," Claire replied.

"I know, right?"

Angela and I rolled our eyes at each other as we led Riley and the twins toward the swings.

"Did she even read the book or just look at the chapter titles?" Angela wondered.

Once in awhile our playgroup does a book club, and I had suggested _The 5 Love Languages,_ one of the relationship books Esme recommended.

"You mean she can read?" I quipped. We giggled. "I'm sorry, that's really mean. I shouldn't have said that."

"It's ok. I get it."

"I should have warned you about some of the people in this playgroup before I invited you to join it. But I'm SO glad you're here! I swear, not everyone in San Diego is so superficial. This group just seems to have more than its fair share."

Angela smiled in understanding. "Well, thanks for the warning. You and I will just have to stick together."

"I'd like that."_ I really would_, I thought. _I think she'll be a great friend_. "I need someone to roll my eyes at next time she gets her boob job re-done."

"What?" I caught Angela glancing back toward Jessica where she sat, gossiping, as her son dumped cup after cup of sand over his own head.

"Precious Mikey wasn't entirely pleased with the results of her… enhancements, so she's had them re-done—twice."

"Seriously?"

I nodded and realized with a twinge of guilt that I was gossiping, too. But at least I was watching Riley.

"Well, isn't that nice?" She took a deep breath and shook her head in disbelief. "I'd much rather talk about books. I really liked this one. Ben and I took the quiz last night, and it was eye-opening. I think it will help us a lot."

"I feel the same way. It's funny that it seems to reinforce things I knew about Edward already without really realizing it. His top scores were the languages of Touch and Service and now that I know that it's like, 'Oh yeah, when we were first married he used to tell me that he'd love me forever as long as I gave him backrubs.' It's so obvious to me now."

"I've had a couple of those light bulbs go off, too. What was your love language?"

"Oh, I figured it out when I read the very first description of them. Quality Time. Definitely."

"Really?"

I nodded, "Yes. I could get all Freudian about it and blame my parents, I guess, but I really just want him to BE there and to pay attention when he IS with me."

I thought sadly of all the time we'd spent in the last couple of years completely disengaged from each other. We'd been working hard in the last month to communicate better and work on our relationship. I implemented a lot of Esme's suggestions. I slipped up a lot, but I did try to put him first, even ahead of Riley. I got over my 50s housewife aversion and greeted Edward when he got home every night so we could spend some time talking about our day. I tried to show more affection and get close enough to touch him when I could, and I found that when my hands were busy rubbing his back or holding his hand, Edward would often pick up Riley for a cuddle. That was an unexpected benefit.

"I get it." She seemed to understand.

Riley was done with the swings and shot off toward the play structure with the big twisty slide as soon as I stopped pushing him. "Gotta go!"

"Hey, we're headed home for naps, but I was wondering what would you like me to bring on Saturday?" Angela inquired.

"Nothing—just yourselves and whatever you need to take the kids swimming. I can't wait to meet Ben!"

"Oh great. I have to meet your husband in my maternity swimsuit—lovely!" She covered her face and shook her head, chagrined. "Oh well," she laughed, "See you Saturday!"

"You're gorgeous, Mama!" I reassured her, "We'll see you then. Riley, wave bye-bye!"

"Bye-bye Joshie. Bye-bye Isaac."

June 16, 2012

I'd invited Angela and her family over for a barbecue so that the guys could meet each other and we could finalize plans for a date night babysitting swap, another of Esme's ideas. Ben and Edward were getting along great, trading stories about favorite places in Seattle. Edward seemed really comfortable with the Yees. He was animated. He didn't display the reserved confident calm—the insecurity sometimes perceived as arrogance—that often makes an appearance in social situations.

"Hey, did you know that Angela's dad is a minister?" Edward walked up behind me as I was getting the fish ready to take out to the new built-in grill. He wrapped his arms around my waist and gave me a quick kiss on the temple.

"No, really?" Edward's grandpa was a minister, too.

He nodded.

"You seem to have a lot in common with them. We both do."

"Yeah. They're really nice. Very down-to-earth." I handed him a couple of trays to carry out to the grill. "Wow, Bell, this looks great."

"Thanks, I thought I'd give you three Seattlites a little taste of home with the salmon."

"What are these wood things?"

"They're cedar planks. You soak them in water and put them right on the grill with the food on top. They're supposed to give the salmon kind of a smoky cedar flavor as it cooks."

"Hmm. Sounds wonderful. How'd I get so lucky to marry an amazing cook like you?"

"Well, you're cooking tonight, Clarkie, so get grillin'!" I admit I had an ulterior motive. I wanted to try out the new recipe to see if it would be fancy enough for Edward's colleagues at our housewarming-slash-4th of July barbecue which was coming up.

Arms loaded, we headed out the door to the backyard. "Hey, I wanted to ask Ben if he'd like to go out sailing, but I know that pretty much takes up a whole day of the weekend…" I looked into his eyes and smiled. It warmed my heart that he was asking permission for a day with his new friend. He knew that a day on the boat would take time away from me. It was such a change in attitude from just a few weeks ago.

"I think that would be really nice. You haven't taken the boat out in awhile. Umm…" I mentally reviewed our calendar. "I know Riley wants to take you somewhere special next Saturday for your birthday, but Sunday would be ok, and the next weekend we just have a birthday party for one of the playgroup kids which you don't have to go to, so either day would be fine."

"That Sunday's the Rock & Roll Marathon."

"Oh, that's right—how could I forget that? Are you ready?"

He scoffed, "of course!" He told me that the team of runners from the hospital was having a spaghetti feed on Friday night before the race—families welcome. I'd have to add that to the calendar later. _I guess we'd see Leah there. That should be interesting_.

"All right, Superman. Um… The week after that is the 4th, so that's probably no good, and beyond that I'll have to check the calendar."

"Cool."

"Edward?" He turned to me after setting the food down on the counter next to the grill and checking the heat.

"Hmm?"

"Thanks for asking."

He looked at me and smiled, taking the trays from my arms, "You're welcome, wife." I gave him a quick hug, massaged his shoulders twice, and kissed him on the cheek before heading back inside. It felt so good to be happy with him.

"Let's fire up these fisheys!" he called, snapping the barbecue tongs a few times as Ben approached the big, manly grill.

**A/N**

Yay—we have more Angela. A lot of you were hoping for that.

"Where's the rest of the chapter?" you ask. "There was no Edward's birthday…"

It's not ready. I know I promised you that this story was pre-written, and it IS. But it's not 100% pre-edited—we just caught up to that place—and we're not talking about typos and grammatical errors here, we're talking about comments and suggestions like this one from the lovely but tough Besotted:

"I really hope they talk about this in greater detail as the story progresses, because it bothers me that they…"

Ohh-These make me want to yank the paper out, platen spinning, crumple it up, and toss it across the room into the trash can in frustration. (Remember typewriters? They were so much more dramatic!) But Besotted makes it better, so I need to make the changes—some of them major changes—that will make her happy before I share it with you. It may take awhile. Life's crazy. But it will be worth it! Edward WILL get his birthday present!


	14. Chapter 12 Part 2, Bella:Edward's Bday

**The Fantasy Basket**

By JenEsme

Inspired by Stephenie Meyers' Twilight series. No infringement intended.

Chapter 12—Bella: Edward's Birthday

Posted August 1, 2012

Apologies for the 3 week break.

* * *

_Chapter 12, continued…_

_June 16, 2012_

_Earlier in the day, Edward and Bella had Angela and her family over for a barbeque…_

Later that night, we sat on our king sized bed, surrounded by design magazines and books. Each time one of us liked something, I made a note on a post it and stuck it to the edge of the page, hanging over the edge like a bookmark. This was going to be so hard to narrow down. I don't know how Esme can take our many, many disparate ideas and come up with perfect, beautiful rooms that both of us love, but she does—every time.

"Ooooh, no more!" Edward groaned, rubbing his eyes with the heels of his hands, "I just want it to be done!"

"You and me both. At least we're on the last room downstairs." I put the cap on my pen and set it on the nightstand.

"True." We started gathering up all the books and piling them on the floor.

"And everything with the pool and the landscaping outside looks great. I'm glad they finished it in time for summer. I was using today with the Yees as kind of a test run for the 4th of July. I think we're ready for the doctors' scrutiny."

"What happened to, 'we should do things for ourselves, not to impress other people?'" he teased, grinning.

I hung my head and sighed. "I know. You're right. I'm just… a little nervous."

"Aw, Bell. It'll be fine. You always do great. It's just a barbeque, right?"

I looked at him in disbelief, "Really, Edward? I'm the only one stressed about this? I saw you scrubbing that grill within an inch of its life tonight, and you just went and bought that fancy new…"

"Ok! You're right. I admit I'm a little nervous. I… I guess I… want to impress them. But…"

"It's ok. I know what you mean. We'll work on it, right? Try to do things for us instead of trying to fit into someone else's image of what we should be?"

"We'll work on it," he nodded sheepishly. "You know, _I_," he emphasized the I with a gleam in his eye. "thought that salmon was delicious today. Will you make that again at the party? For _me_?" he grinned, teasing me.

I chuckled and shook my head. "Maybe for _you_." I smiled at him and he ran his finger tenderly down my cheek. "It was good, huh?"

"Delicious! I think Angela and Ben appreciated your thoughtfulness, too. They seemed a little homesick."

"I can't imagine leaving home and family right before the baby's born. Moving is stressful enough. I've been trying to help her out however I can."

"You're such a good friend, Babe." He leaned over and kissed my forehead.

"Well, I like her a lot. And Ben seems great. I think they'll be good friends for us."

He nodded in agreement. "I think so, too. And those twins are so cute. Wasn't it great to see Riley interacting with them?"

"When he wasn't stealing their toys and making them cry." We slid under the covers and Edward laid his head on my stomach so that I could rub his bare back and shoulders.

"Aw, he's just being two. I bet he'd love to have his own brother or sister." He moved his hand in slow circles on my belly, just as he'd done when I was pregnant.

I took in a sharp breath and stopped rubbing his back, speechless for a moment. "I…" I'm sure he could hear my heart speed up with stress.

"Hey, what's the matter?" he asked, continuing to tenderly caress my stomach. "You're such a good mom, Bella. Don't you want another one?"

"Edward, I… oh my gosh, I… uh… No!" He moved off of me and lay on his back beside me without touching. I could tell he was disappointed and maybe a little upset. "Hey," I reached over and clasped his hand in mine. "I'm sorry. I just… I'm not ready for that yet. I don't think _we're_ ready for that yet. It's so much work. And it was so hard on _us_." I brought our joined hands to my lips and gave him a kiss before hugging his forearm to my chest. "I feel like I'm just getting you back. And I'm scared of losing you again, Edward. I just want to focus on you and me for awhile."

"I thought you hated being an only child."

"I do. I… I don't want Riley to grow up alone, but YOU are more important to me than giving him a sibling is. I think we should put our marriage first." I turned my head toward him and ran my finger along his clenched jaw, hoping to relax it.

"Don't you think I want that, too? Aren't we doing that?" He turned his head toward me, brow furrowed in a grim look.

_Great, he's getting defensive_. I took a deep breath, trying to figure out a way to put my thoughts into words that wouldn't be taken the wrong way. "Of course you do. We both do. I didn't mean to make it sound that way, ok?"

He shifted a little, pulling the covers up higher. I rolled to my side, facing him, and scooted into him. He lay still, defeated. I traced my fingers between the two moles on his chest, "You've made me so happy these past couple of months. I missed you when we were being distant. I missed _us_. But we've only just gotten back here." I kissed his shoulder. "I think we may still be kind of fragile, you know?" He gave my shoulder a squeeze and I felt him nod his head against my hair. "I worry that a big stressor like a baby may push us back into that bad place again. And I don't want that to happen." I sat up on my elbow and looked him in the eye. "I never want to go back to being distant again, Edward. I never want to feel like pushing you away is the only way to ease the pain. Ever." My brow knit just thinking about it, and I shook my head slightly to shake those thoughts away. "This isn't forever, ok? Can you just give me some time? Six months, maybe?" I bit my bottom lip. "I need to know that we're strong enough first. That _I'm_ strong enough." I kissed him and lay my head on his chest, my arm slung across his torso. "I'm sorry to disappoint you, but you're too important to lose again."

He let out his breath and wrapped his arms around me. "You're right, Babe," he answered with a slight snicker.

I told him I loved him with a hint of desperation in my voice.

He rolled us both over, pinned me down with a little growl, and started pecking me with a bunch of little kisses on my face and neck and shoulders between his words. "I… love you… too… Silly girl… and I'll… never… ever… ever… let you forget it… again." He looked deeply into my eyes then, put his hand on my cheek, and slowly leaned in to brush his lips softly against mine. We gazed at each other for a moment before he lay down, pulled me against him, and went to sleep.

The next morning he seemed a little quiet as we got ready for church, contemplative. I hated that I disappointed him, and made sure to hold his hand and give him lots of contact all day, which seemed to raise his spirits. _We'll get through this_, I thought to myself, _but why does everything have to be so dang hard? It's like two steps forward and one step back, all the time_.

.

Edward's birthday was coming up on Wednesday, so I was relieved when Alice called Sunday evening telling me that my order from her party had arrived. I knew that the basket came with a cd-rom that I needed to customize so I could print out all the fantasy cards. I was a little nervous about it.

"Oh, Bella, can I please come and help? I'm dying to know what they all say!"

"Alice, it's kind of personal."

She let out an exasperated sigh, "Bella, please. It's just girl talk between us—I'm not going to tell anyone your deepest, darkest secrets! I really want to know how this thing works. I might want to get one for Jasper."

"Alice, you're a newlywed. You don't need it! From all that you've told me, you REALLY don't need it!" The girl had very few personal boundaries. She told me all about her exploits with Jasper.

"But I might someday."

"Oh, fine. Jeez!" The girl is relentless. I knew she'd never let up, so I just gave in.

"Goody! Thanks! I'm off on Tuesday. See you then!"

Alice sat at my computer, looking through the cd-rom. "Ok, Bella, it says the Fantasy Basket includes 10-11 sexual fantasies in each of five categories for a whole year of weekly fun and adventure for two. Plus, there's a bonus category included with the Deluxe Basket which you bought—a fantasy for each of the major holidays— woohoo! And there's a getting started card to explain everything when you first present the basket to your luv-ah," she giggled. "Wow, Bella, these are pretty steamy—listen to these categories: Roleplay, Games, and Dress-Up; Domination and Submission; Kink, Fetish, and Oral; Exploring Your Sensuality, and Making Love/Rekindling Romance." She made a clicking noise with her mouth, and then looked up at me and burst into laughter. "Oh, Bella, you should see your face. You look like an owl your eyes are so wide, and your eyebrows are gone, somewhere up there under your hair!"

I gulped, nervously.

"Don't worry, Bella, it says they're all for beginners, so you don't need to freak out. Just relax. This looks really fun!"

"Fun? It sounds kind of intimidating to me."

"Well, remember who recommended this. You don't think Esme would suggest anything bad for her precious son, do you?"

I cringed and probably looked a little green. "Oh my god…" How could she? I can't even imagine urging Riley—even future grown-up Riley—to do anything involving kink, fetish, and oral.

"Isabella, would you PLEASE lighten up? Look, all you have to do is put some information into these prompts, and the fantasy cards will be populated with personalized messages. It's pretty cool! He'll think you wrote them all just for him."

I sucked a breath in through my teeth. "That's partly what I'm worried about."

"What? Why?"

"Well…" I shifted nervously "Um… I um… Edward and I have never gone into too much detail about each other's past relationships. I mean, we did share our numbers with each other, but that's about it."

"Yeah…"

"And…" My leg began to bob up and down. Alice put her hand on my knee to still it and looked at me sympathetically, waiting for me to continue.

"Well… my number's higher than his—not that it's very big—but, still, he's really insecure about me being 'more experienced.' So, I just kind of worry how he'll take this."

"Seriously? You guys have never discussed this?"

I shook my head, "Not in detail. We didn't really feel the need to at first. We were so into each other. Believe it or not, we did used to be more like you guys. We didn't do anything too wild, but we were pretty passionate and… you know… the frequency was there. Until we had Riley."

"You know, I always hear that. How does having a baby change things SO much? I mean, I get that you're tired, but…"

"Well, when you're pregnant, it's great. All the hormones make you want to do it all the time."

"Ooh, really?" Her eyes sparkled and she gave a little bounce.

"Yes! But then you have the baby and… there's really no way to explain the level of exhaustion that comes with a new baby. You're not just physically tired, it's more than that. It's mental and emotional and you're just… completely used up. It's like you give everything inside you to this child and there's nothing left, even for yourself, much less for your spouse. I don't know—that's how it was for us, anyway. And on top of that, I tore when I had him, so it was physically painful to have sex afterwards for almost a year."

"A YEAR?" I've never seen Alice cringe before, but she actually shuddered at the thought of it.

"Sometimes still, actually."

"TWO YEARS?"

"It's not THAT bad. I'm usually fine now, except that I can't pee straight anymore. It was just always a little sore so we only had sex every, I don't know—six weeks? Couple of months or so? That was just one more thing on top of everything else and before we knew it we were barely talking to each other." Alice looked at me, shocked. "Did you ever have a roommate in college who you didn't really click with, so you just covered the necessary stuff but weren't really good friends?"

"Yeah…"

I shrugged.

"Ohh my gosh, it was that bad?"

"Pretty much. Hence the 'relationship improvement' project."

"How's that going so far?"

I bit my lip, "Pretty well, actually. We're talking a lot more and feeling… connected, happy. There are a few things that…" I thought about the baby issue. "I just worry that something like this," I gestured toward the basket, "might set things back. We still haven't resumed much of a physical relationship."

"Oh my god, it's not still every two months is it?"

"It's not that bad any more. Maybe once or twice…"

She interrupted, "Once or twice a week? That's not too bad! I think this basket only has cards for once a week…"

I laughed, "Oh Alice, you're such a newlywed! No—once or twice a MONTH!"

She gasped. "Oh, Bella…You know what? This is going to help you guys SO much. He's going to absolutely love it, I'm sure."

"I hope so. We'll see." I'm still skeptical. Alice just doesn't really get it. How could she?

Wednesday morning came and I gave Edward his new black boxer briefs—very soft and touchable—with the introductory card.

"What is this?" he asked, curious.

"Just read it," I blushed.

_Happy Birthday! Did you ever get underwear for your birthday as a kid? Back then, it was pretty boring, but now I hope you'll find it to be the most exciting gift ever. Meet me in the bedroom tonight at 9:30 for the second part of this gift. In the meantime, you can think of me and the fun time we will have tonight whenever you feel the silky-soft underwear caressing you._

He looked at me, grinned, and cocked an eyebrow up as he took the towel from around his waist and slid the boxer briefs on. I couldn't resist embracing him and running my hands over his backside, "Mmmm—do these feel as good to you as they do to me?"

"They do, indeed," he replied and kissed me deeply.

As he parted his lips, I backed away and wagged my finger at him, "Uh uh uh—not till later, Clarkie!" and slapped his folded pants against his chest.

He took a deep breath and shook his head, trying to change his train of thought. "You're an evil, wicked, woman, you know that?"

"Yeah, so?" I teased.

"It's my birthday," he whined. He made a face, threw his towel at me, and continued getting dressed as I stepped into the shower. Before closing the door, I looked over my shoulder, tossed my hair, and said, "Don't worry, Birthday Boy. I'll make it up to you tonight."

He grinned and blew me a kiss goodbye. "Can't wait. See ya."

"I love you. Have a great day!"

"Love you, too." Oh, that smile of his…

9:00 p.m. came and went and I was plagued with nervous anticipation. Riley was in bed. Edward's dinner and birthday cake—shaped like our sailboat, The Renesmee—were cleaned up. (I figured that with all the work I put into Riley's party, I should make Edward a fancy cake, too.) And all the supplies and materials were in place for the Birthday Night Fantasy. The minutes were crawling by so slowly as I waited. 9:15 arrived at last, and I went upstairs to don my costume. I had just slipped my robe on over it when Edward entered our master suite, locking the door behind him. He crossed to his sink and began brushing his teeth, keeping an eye on me through the mirror as I washed my face and prepared for bed. He turned toward me, unbuttoning his shirt to reveal his toned chest, "I hear there's another birthday present up here for me."

I met his eyes in the mirror, "Do you still have those sexy black underwear on?"

He nodded and opened his fly, showing me. "See?"

"Meet me on the couch wearing nothing but those." He let out a wavering breath and hurried to put his clothes away in the closet. Three minutes later, I approached and placed the Fantasy Basket, full of small wrapped items, on the ottoman. I handed him a card, sat on his lap as he opened it, and read it aloud to him:

"_Did you enjoy wearing your new underwear today?_" He nodded with a small smile. "_Did it make you feel sexy and think of meeting me here tonight?_" His smile grew.

He kissed me behind the ear and whispered, "absolutely," and placed his hand on my thigh.

"_Well, there's more to this gift than one night of fantastic sex to celebrate your birthday._" He raised his eyebrows in surprise. "_How about an entire year of sexual fantasies?_" His mouth dropped open, shocked. "_My gift to you, Edward, is this Fantasy Basket._" I pointed to it. "_To make your wildest dreams come true, just put on your new underwear every Wednesday morning (or choose another day so long as you wear them once a week),_" I ran my index finger along the waistband and noticed him twitch slightly below, "_select a random card from the grab-bag in the basket—_here's the first one_—and give me the card before you leave for work_." He looked at me with trepidation. I smiled seductively and looked up at him under my eyelashes as I continued reading, running my free hand up his chest, "_All day long, every Wednesday, we'll both be thinking of each other and the fun we will have on Wednesday night. It's certain to become our favorite day of the week…_" My hand reached his face, and I leaned in to kiss him ardently.

This time it was Edward who backed away. He looked up at me, wide-eyed and dumbfounded, "What?"

I held the velvet drawstring bag up to him and reached inside, pulling out a handful of the business card-sized fantasies. "See? These are all different fun things to do every week for a year." I dropped the cards back in and held up the Birthday Fantasy card. "Tonight we won't choose a random one, though, because there's a special fantasy for your birthday. So, what do you say? Will you accept this Fantasy Basket and come play with me every Thursday?" Ugh—I sounded like The Bachelorette on TV.

"What kind of stuff is in there? Have you read them all?" I nodded. "Are they all things that you would do?" He shifted nervously and laid the grab bag aside. I set the card down on the couch, turned to straddle his lap, and put my hands on his shoulders.

"Mostly. Some of them are a little… intimidating. But either of us can say 'no' if we're uncomfortable with anything, ok?" I ran my fingers through his hair and scratched his scalp to calm him down.

"Have you done these things before?" Ah—there's the reaction I was worried about.

"We've done some of them, but most are new experiences we can share together." I cupped his face in my hands and pecked him on the lips. He backed away slightly, his mouth in a grim, tight line.

"No, I asked if _you_ had done them before. Is this something that you…"

"Edward," I put my fingers on his lips, stopping his words before they became hurtful, "Don't… Please?" I caressed his soft lips with my index finger. "I'm giving you this because I love you and I want to share these things with you—only you, ever."

His eyes were darting around nervously and would not meet mine.

"Hey…" I lifted his chin with my fingers and made him look at me. "Don't over think things, ok? Let's have fun and enjoy this for your birthday," I pleaded, holding up the birthday card. "Just this one card tonight. If you want to talk about the rest of them," I nodded toward the bag of fantasies, "we can do that later, ok?" I leaned in to kiss his ear, his neck, his shoulder, nibbling and licking everything in my path until I worked my way back up to his mouth. "Ok?"

He leaned back and looked into my eyes for a moment, finally nodding in agreement once he'd decided to trust me. Then he kissed me back… and forth… and sideways… and every which way, groaning as our tongues met, sliding his hands from my waist to my thighs and up under the hem of my robe. He stopped abruptly when his hands grazed the surprise I was wearing underneath. "What IS this?"

I laughed and handed him the Birthday Fantasy card:

_Happy Birthday, Edward. Tonight I'm your shiny new toy to play with however you like, but first you have to unwrap me. Maybe later we can enjoy some cake. I'll let you eat it in bed, just this once if you promise to lick all the frosting off of me._

My hand was on his chest and I could feel his heart start to race. "I have to unwrap you? And lick frosting off of you?" I backed off of his lap, stood in front of him, and let my robe drop to the floor. "Oh, Bella," he gasped, and leaned forward to touch the three inch wide satin ribbon that was tied in a bow around my chest, barely covering my breasts. A second ribbon was wrapped around me down below like a thong, its bow resting low on my pelvis.

"Would you like to unwrap me?" I teased, fingering the ribbons, "And lick frosting off of me?"

"Oh, definitely." He pulled me closer and nuzzled the bow between my breasts, rubbing his face along the smooth satin while his hands traced the lower ribbon around my hips and down the cleave of my ass. I jumped and squeezed my cheeks together.

"That tickles!" I giggled.

"I'd like to tickle you in a lot of places." He ran his teeth and hot breath over the ribbon covering my left nipple, nipping and sucking it to attention.

"Oh," I gasped. "That tickles, too." His hands roamed down the backs of my thighs teasing me with the ever-so-slight touch of his fingertips all the way down to the backs of my knees and back up between my legs, causing my hips to jerk toward him, anticipating his touch against the ribbon that covered me. He tortured me by feeling along the edges of the ribbon while his mouth moved to my right nipple. "Oh, Edward. Please."

"Please what, Bella?" He released me, leaning back on the couch to watch me squirm with need as he gently stroked himself. "You need to communicate," he teased. I lifted my hands to touch him, but he was just out of reach and shook his head 'no,' so I combed my fingers through my own hair and pulled it as I squeezed my thighs together, desperate for his touch.

"Please unwrap me and play with all of me," I begged.

"Hmmm… I don't know," he teased. "I'm kind of enjoying this." He leaned toward me again, running his thumbs along the exposed undersides of my breasts. "I don't get to see these curves very often. They're pretty tantalizing." He bent forward and followed the contours with a wide, flat tongue. I ran my hands up and down his back, breathing heavily and struggling not to claw him with my fingernails. Suddenly, he gripped an end of the ribbon in his teeth, yanking it from side to side and snarling like a wild creature tearing at its prey until the bow was untied and the ribbon hung loosely from his teeth.

"Ohhhhh!" I squealed and reached for the ribbon.

"Nope!" He grabbed my hands and held my wrists together while he took the ribbon from his teeth and stood to tie them together resting my hands on my head. "Is this ok?" he whispered in my ear as he checked to make sure there was some slack in my binds.

"Oh, yeah," I sighed. "I've never done this before. So far, I think I like it a lot." He smirked and left me standing for a moment as he spread a blanket over the couch. He sat and pulled me by the remaining bow, the one over my pelvis, until I was on my knees, straddling him. Once I was in position, he tugged the bow upward so that it rubbed against my clit, causing my breath to catch. I placed my bound arms around his neck, helping me balance as he followed the central ribbon slowly downward with his right hand and wrapped his left around my hip. He sucked my naked breast into his mouth, teasing my nipple with his tongue as his hand arrived at its destination. His middle finger traced the damp ribbon up and down from my clitoris to my opening, while his index and ring fingers trailed along the ribbon's edges, caressing my labia. It had been awhile since my spa day with Esme, but I was still pretty bare, which Edward seemed to enjoy.

"Mmmm—you're so soft," he mumbled as his mouth moved to the other side. Suddenly, I felt him pull the ribbon to untie the bow and unwind it. The ribbon rubbed against my clit as he slid it from between my legs, causing me to shudder as he slowly pulled it away. I began to sway. My legs were shaky from kneeling over him while being stimulated. "Whoa, Babe," he placed his hands on my hips to steady me and then sat me down on his thighs and began to kiss my neck. I ground myself against his still-covered erection, and arched my back in pleasure, moaning as he thrust back, delivering the friction we both desired.

"We have to stop or we'll never get to that cake," he murmured in my ear, and removed my arms from around his neck as he stood, turned, and sat me on the couch, "Where is it?"

"On my nightstand," I answered, anticipating the sweet, sticky mess that was to come.

"First, you need to unwrap _me_," he commanded, lifting my bound wrists to his chest and nudging my face toward his crotch. I looked up at him and raised my eyebrows. "Go on," he insisted. I scratched my fingernails through his chest hair, inhaled his musky scent, and kissed the bulge in his underpants before grasping the waistband in my teeth and inching them down bit by bit. Once past his hips, they fell to the floor and Edward kicked them off his feet. "Wait here." As he rounded the couch behind me, I was startled to feel the discarded ribbon being placed over my eyes and tied behind my head (thankfully, not the wet section.) "Stay," he whispered in my ear. I sunk back into the couch, flabbergasted. This was a side of Edward I'd never seen before. I wondered whether tying me up was something he'd always wanted to do or if it was a new thing prompted by the fantasy basket. Either way, it was a sexy new side of him. And I liked it.

I heard him return and sit next to me. I heard the fork scratch against the plate. "Open up." He placed his hand on my head to guide my mouth gently toward the bite of cake.

"Mmmmm….delicious." While I chewed, he smeared frosting on my neck and began licking it off as I swallowed. With my senses heightened by the lack of sight and the restriction of my hands it felt so erotic. He lay me down and continued with the cake, choosing a new way to eat it off my body or to feed me from his for each bite—a bit of frosting to suck from his fingers, a trail of crumbs from my neck to my navel, a piece of cake held between his teeth, a smear on his cheek or my nipple, a crumb in the crook of his elbow, a morsel held between my knees, my thighs. I knew what had to be coming. The anticipation was killing me. _Please, Edward, let me suck frosting from you and give you so much pleasure._ Apparently it was not to be.

"Well, that seems to be the last of it," he lamented and sat me up. "Would you like a glass of milk?" he joked as I felt him stand. I laughed. While my mouth was agape, I felt it suddenly filled. Hot, thick, long, velvet-soft over the hardness of a steel rod, creamy, sweet, and little bit of bitter seeping through his buttercream-covered tip. "Oh," I grunted in surprise before I caught my wits and began to suck and swirl my tongue. Edward was panting, moaning, sweating, as his hands guided and moved my head just where and how he needed to feel me. "Oh, Babe…" he moaned, and as swiftly as he had entered my mouth, he was gone. I heard the snap of a lid and then without warning, I was turned, pushed to my back, arms pinned above my head, knees yanked open, and my husband entered me.

_Oh. Holy. Crow._ I couldn't see what was happening or anticipate what he would do to me next, but I felt everything. Heard everything. Smelled everything. The heat and weight of his body on top of mine; the heaviness of his breath as he rocked in and out, over and over; the scratch of his whiskers against my face and neck; the clench of his fingers laced through mine above my head; the warm, wet, lapping of his tongue and nipping of his sharp teeth on my lips, jaw, shoulders, breasts; the sweaty slapping of our bodies meeting each other with each thrust; the tickle of his chest hair and compression of my breasts as our bodies met; the scent of sweet frosting on his breath mixed with the subtle musk of his perspiration and the woodsy, spicy flavors of his toiletries and underlying hint of hospital soap; the grunts, the moans, the whispers and declarations of pleasure, the 'oh fuck, Bellas' and heavy breathing as our lovemaking grew faster, dirtier, louder, messier, hotter, more frantic. Every touch, every sound, every smell was magnified, enhanced.

It could have been hours or mere minutes when my fingers squeezed, my toes curled, my eyes squinted underneath the blindfold, my stomach clenched, my thighs tensed, and my vagina gripped Edward, releasing pangs of shivering warmth from the depths of my body to every extremity and prompting Edward's cock to pulse, to throb, and to shoot warm semen deep into my womb. We both cried out as we climaxed and then collapsed, clinging to each other, trembling. He lifted my blindfold and kissed me, untied my hands and rubbed the circulation back into my wrists as he stared into my eyes, panting. I wrapped my arms and legs around his body, squeezing and clenching tightly, never wanting to let go. He rested his forehead on my heaving chest. I ran my fingers through his sweaty hair, and we felt it—love, dedication, trust, commitment. Two bodies, two souls, joined as one. As our breathing steadied, our hearts slowed, and our bodies cooled, we pulled the blanket over us and clung together more tightly, neither of us wanting to lose the connection, the closeness. After trading 'I love yous' and 'thank yous' and 'happy birthdays,' it was time.

"No, don't go," I whined. But we both knew that it had to end—we had to get cleaned up and go to bed.

"I'm not going anywhere," he promised as he handed me one of the napkins I'd laid out with the cake. "Bye-bye," I said with a kiss and a pout as we parted. He helped me up and led me, hand-in-hand, to the shower.

The next morning I awoke to the feeling of something tickling my face—something smooth. I opened my eyes to find Edward dressed, sitting on the edge of the bed caressing my cheek with a certain three inch wide satin ribbon.

"Good morning," he smiled at me.

"Hi." I giggled and turned my face.

"Thanks for my birthday present," he grinned, running the ribbon over my collarbone.

"You're welcome. Thanks for playing along. That was more than I expected," I twirled the ribbon around my finger.

He made a slightly embarrassed chuckle and then sobered. "Yeah, I'm sorry I freaked out to begin with. It just took me by surprise, that's all."

I sat up, wanting to be on an equal level. "I know, I was worried that it might."

"Really?"

"Yeah."

"God, I'm such a pussy," he whispered, rolling his eyes, annoyed with himself. "I guess you're right, though. We should really talk about it. It's probably a conversation we should have had years ago." He ran his hands through his freshly-combed hair, and grimaced, realizing he'd messed it up.

I nodded and smoothed his hair as best I could, leaving my hands on his cheeks. "Maybe so. Tonight?"

"Ok," he whispered. I could tell it was a conversation he dreaded but knew was necessary.

I leaned in and gave him a quick kiss, smoothed his shirt, and took his hands in mine. "Edward, do you have any idea how much I love you?" He looked up into my eyes and smiled softly. "I knew from the day I met you that you were my perfect match. I never want you to feel like anything less. Ever."

He hooked an elbow around the back of my neck, pulling me into a hug and kissed the top of my head, "Thanks, Babe, I love you, too."

"Now go save the world, Superman!" I pushed on his arm to give him a boost off the bed. He lifted the hand in a wave, "Yes ma'am. See ya."

.

"…And, he's down!" I descended the stairs with my arms up in a victory stance.

"Yay, Bella!" he cheered with me.

I sat down next to Edward on the family room couch as he flipped the cover closed on his new Ipad and handed me a glass of wine. "I'm really glad we did that cry-it-out thing when he was little. It's so worth it now. You should hear the bedtime nightmare stories I hear at playgroup… Oh, thanks. What's the occasion?"

"I just thought it might be nice to relax a little tonight. Cheers!" I clinked his glass and took a sip, remembering the topic we had promised to discuss.

"Oh… right." I raised my eyebrows and nodded, hoping that he would be the one to start.

"Right…" He furrowed his brow. "Well…" He let out a frustrated breath and ran a hand through his hair, scratching and messing it up more than it already was.

"Getting into costume?" I asked.

"Huh?"

"Sex hair for the sex talk?" I snickered. He chuckled and seemed to relax a little.

I put my hand on his knee and rubbed little circles. "Tell me what goes through that pretty little head of yours." He grimaced at me and I shrugged, "What? You're the prettiest boy I know, except maybe for the little one upstairs and he looks just like you." I realized he was feeling a little sensitive and tried to cover with, "You're the prettiest, most handsome, sexiest, hottest…" kissing and wrapping myself around him a little more between each word until I was straddling his lap.

"Ok, ok. I get it." He laughed. I did, too.

"Is your masculinity fully back in place now? Testosterone flowing at normal levels, Doc?"

"Let me check." He sniffed his armpit and adjusted his junk. "Yep, definitely a dude."

"That you are, Superman." I wrapped my arms around his neck and planted my lips on his for a very hot kiss, grinding in his lap. I sighed and came up for air, eyes hooded, and whispered in his ear, "But I still think you're pretty!" as I fake-slapped his cheek.

"Oh—You little…"

I tried to jump off his lap, shrieking, but he grabbed me around the waist, flipped me onto my back, and lay on top of me, pinning my arms and legs with his much longer, stronger ones, and started tickling me. I laughed until I cried, begging him to stop the attack.

"Shhh…Belly, you'll wake him up! Shush!"

"Well, STOP!" I whisper-shouted. He let up for a second, and then shook his head and found another ticklish spot to torture. Through my laughter, I managed to gasp out, "Edward, please stop—I'm gonna pee my pants. Don't make me pee on the new couch, PLEASE!"

Though still laughing, he stopped immediately, raised his hands, and climbed off me, offering a hand to help me up. "You're such a girl!" he teased as I made my way to the nearest bathroom (there are five in this big ol' house—yes, FIVE toilets to clean! Six if you count the poolhouse in the backyard.)

I looked over my shoulder as I turned the corner, "You know you love me, Pretty-Man!" I smirked and disappeared down the hall as he pretended to throw one of the couch pillows at me. When I returned, the mood was decidedly lighter than it had been when I came down from Riley's room earlier, hopefully much better for the sticky conversation to come. I grabbed my glass of wine off the side table and a certain basket that I'd hidden underneath it earlier and slipped onto the couch, sitting sideways to face my husband. "So, Superman, tell me how a little ol' thing like this," I held the basket up between us before placing it on the coffee table, "could've spooked a big strong man like you."

He sighed, exasperated. "Ohhh, I don't know, Bella. I just…" his fingers attacked his hair again, "I had a brief flash of… something… I don't know, jealousy? Panic? Performance anxiety?" He snickered. "And then it stuck there in my head and festered and grew and got me all stressed out and I unfortunately blurted it out."

"You know, five's not that much more than three,"

"I know," he interrupted. I held up my hand, wanting to continue. "And you have no idea—you've never wanted to talk about the circumstances. For all either of us know, yours could have been two long term relationships giving you years of experience and mine could have been four single episodes before you, giving me…" I held up four fingers, "not much."

"Is that true?"

I held my index finger up to silence him, "Let me finish, please. My point is that you don't have an accurate picture, and yet you bring it up and play the 'more experience' card against me whenever YOU are feeling insecure. I know it's only come up a handful of times, but every time it does," I rolled my eyes and shook my head, "I've told you how it makes me feel!" He looked up at me, regretful. I continued before he could answer. "It hurts, Edward. You're judging me on something I can't go back and change, and that really hurts." I gulped the last of my wine and set my glass down, frowning.

"Bella, no!" Edward was remorseful. He pulled me into a hug, burying his face in my shoulder, placing a hand on the back of my head and rocking slightly. It's not you, Babe, it's me. I'm not judging you. I never meant to make you feel that way. Shit—I'm an ass." I reacted stiffly—we still needed to talk this out. He backed off when he realized my lack of response. _Why the hell did he keep doing this?_

"Oh, Bella." He leaned forward to cover his face with his hands, elbows on his knees, and shook his head over and over. Finally, he looked up at me. "I never, ever meant to make you feel that way. I was just jealous and insecure. I didn't think…"

"Obviously!" I crossed my arms over my chest. After calming down a bit, I handed him the box of tissues from the side table (useful when Riley's awake, sliming everything.) "So, can we please talk about this and figure out a way to get over it?"

He nodded.

I put my five fingers back up. "Are you ready?"

He tossed the box aside, took a deep breath and nodded. "Hit me."

"Ok then, time to bare all." I was so worried about his reaction I bit down on my lip, really hard.

"Hey, don't." He pulled my lip free from my teeth with his thumb.

"Sorry. This is just difficult for me." I squeezed my eyes shut and he took the hand that was in my lap and gave it a kiss.

"I won't judge, I promise."

I took a deep breath. "All right." I kept my index finger up and dropped the other four fingers. "Erik. Prom night." I smiled, wistfully. "We went out for a couple of months after that and broke up when he left for the military the summer after graduation. He was a sweetheart—a virgin like me—and we fumbled around and laughed at each other trying to figure out how things worked. We broke up before he left," I furrowed my brow, "and he was killed the next summer in Iraq. I don't know if I was his 'only,' but I might have been." Edward petted the side of my head and kissed my temple, "I'm sorry."

I lifted my middle finger, making a two, and touched the tip of it with my right index finger. "Michael." I closed my eyes and grimaced. "Freshman year at UCSD. He was a junior, big man on campus who led my freshman campus tour. He was president of the Young Republicans—conservative and preppy—super intelligent, and very handsome, very charismatic. Everybody loved him. I was so innocent and thought he was so great, I fell right into his trap. He was all about his image, and tried to change me into this perfect model of a political girlfriend—the clothes, the hair, the parties we went to, the people we hung out with. In the spring I helped him campaign for Student Body President. The night before the election, we planned a dinner party for his roommates and people who had helped, so I went over to his apartment early to get the dinner started. There he was with some sorority bimbo who'd been hanging around—definitely not someone who fit his precious "image." He had her bent over the kitchen table, yanking her hair back and pounding into her, cursing like I'd never heard him before. With me it had always been very conservative, very… 'nice.'" I snorted, "What an asshole! Typical politician." I laughed wryly and held up only his assigned middle finger, flipping off the memory of him. Edward leaned his head on my shoulder to comfort me. "I obviously didn't vote for him the next day or go to his stupid election night party." Edward sat up. "Instead, my girlfriends from the dorm took me to a wild, raging frat party to get my mind off of it. And that led to," I pinched the tip of my left pinky between my right thumb and index finger, "number three. Marcus."

Edward held up his pinky and raised his eyebrows.

"Significance, not size. Get your mind out of the gutter, you perv!" I chuckled.

He shrugged and lifted up his hands, "What was I supposed to think?"

I rolled my eyes. "Anyway, Marcus is the only one that I really regret. Obviously he was my drunken rebound one night stand." I covered my face in shame. "I don't even remember most of it—He was cute. I was drunk. Everything else is just flashes, images. I do remember using protection—thank god!" I cringed. "Jeez, I woke up in that smelly, dirty frat house bedroom next to this boy I didn't know who reeked of beer and I crawled out of there with my tail between my legs." I shook my head in disgust. "I saw him a few times on campus after that and I don't even think he remembered me." I looked up at Edward, "No need to be jealous of that one!"

Edward looked crushed, guilty.

"I'm sorry, that was uncalled for." I didn't need to hurt him back.

"It's ok, I deserve it."

"No you don't. But you might actually be jealous of Demetri." I smiled and touched my thumb.

Edward raised his eyebrows and wondered, "Significance or size?"

I bit my lips to keep quiet and raised my eyebrows. A flash of panic crossed his face.

"Suffice it to say, he was pretty sexy and he was a little more adventurous." I smiled to myself at the memory. "Nothing," I looked toward the basket, "like that. He was always very gentle and sweet. Beyond that, though, Demetri was…" I lifted my thumb a little higher, indicating significance, not size once again. "…impressive."

"You don't think the handsome, brilliant, charismatic, student body president was impressive?"

I shook my head. "No. The way he treated me showed his true colors. He was all show."

He nodded and pursed his lips. "So, what was this guy, a Rhodes scholar or something?"

I snorted, "Uh, No! He's… an Olympian."

"Oh for crying out loud! Couldn't you ever just hook up with a normal person? They're all freakin' extraordinary."

"Oh please. Don't be so dramatic." I looked at him like the crazy man he is. "Demetri was a foreign exchange student from Italy. He was a perfect gentleman and very romantic and, obviously, extremely talented. He's a soccer player—he played for Italy at the Sydney games, and then again at Barcelona, and now he plays pro."

"You're still in touch with him?"

"Just on Facebook. I never unfriended him. He's married and has two adorable little girls. We don't exchange personal messages or anything, don't worry. We went out most of sophomore year. It was never true love or anything, but he was loyal and good looking and I liked being treated like a princess after what Michael had done to me." I reached over and held one of Edward's clenched fists. "However, as good as Demetri was to me, I knew pretty quickly that he wasn't anything permanent. It's not very nice to say, but he just wasn't that bright. Definitely not a Rhodes scholar. He didn't challenge me. If it wasn't about sports, he didn't have much to say about it. So, I enjoyed our time together and then he went home to Italy and we were done." I shrugged.

"But not done enough to take him off of Facebook."

"Edward, come on! How many professional athletes do you know? It's kind of cool being Facebook friends with somebody moderately famous. If you want me to delete him, I will, but I promise you there's nothing to worry about."

He grumbled a little, but let it go.

"Because _then_," I said with a big smile, "I met number five—Edward." I spun the diamond ring adorning my fourth finger around and around.

"Oh yeah?" he smiled sheepishly.

"Talk about extraordinary! I knew on the very first day I saw him that he was… everything to me. He was sweet and playful like Erik," I touched my first finger, "handsome and charismatic and intelligent and driven like Michael," my middle finger, "I knew he'd respect me and take care of me when I needed him, unlike Marcus," pinky, "and that he was kind, and generous, a real gentleman, and really, really sexy like Demetri. More, actually. Edward embodied all the best traits of everyone I'd dated and so much more, with none of their flaws and I never wanted to leave his side. Ever. So I married him."

Edward grabbed me and pulled me into a tight embrace. I could feel him trembling. "You're so good to me Bella. You're so much better than I deserve. Thank you."

"I hope it wasn't too painful to hear all that."

"A little, but not too bad. I'm sorry I built everything up so irrationally in my head instead of talking to you about it sooner."

"That seems to be a theme lately."

"Yeah, I'm working on that."

"Now do you have a little story of your own?"

"Do I have to?" He cringed.

"Quid pro quo, Clarice. Just get it over with."

He took a deep breath and let it out with a huff. "Well, you were close when you suggested that I'd had two longer-term relationships."

"That's always surprised me."

"What?"

"That there were only two! I mean, you've got women falling all over you now. I'm sure you had ample opportunities all through high school and college. I mean, don't get me wrong—I was really relieved to learn that you weren't a big man-whore, but…"

"Bella, let me share a secret with you."

I leaned forward.

"I'm a brainy science geek and I was a very late bloomer."

"Oh, come on!"

"No, seriously. I graduated from high school when I was sixteen, remember?" I nodded. "I was so much younger than everyone else. My hormones were a couple of years behind my class, and they all saw me as this dorky little smart kid who took college classes in his spare time. I didn't go to prom. I didn't date. My first girlfriend, Chelsea, was 18 and she waited until our grad night party to let me know that she liked me so that she wouldn't be embarrassed by hanging out at school with 'Little Eddie.'"

"That's cruel."

"Yeah, well, I didn't know any better. I hung out with her that summer and let her teach me the basics. She made me feel older. Worthy. My folks liked her—they knew her parents, so that was good. I thought I was in love with her and even though we technically broke up when we both left for college, I stayed faithful to her. I was glad to have her as an excuse to keep the girls away, actually. I had a growth spurt the summer I turned 17 and when I got to college that fall, that's when they started to notice me. But I was so overwhelmed with school that I couldn't handle any kind of relationship. I didn't even have friends that year, except my study group. The accelerated program I went through to finish undergrad and med school in six years was intense from the get-go. I'd taken most of my General Ed courses when I was in high school, so I was barely seventeen, away from home for the first time, diving into some very difficult upper level science classes right off the bat. There's no way I could handle girls that year. Then the summer after freshman year Chelsea was home from Brown and I was home from Stanford and we got back together. I was working for my dad but I wasn't taking any summer classes, so I had free time, and like I said, I thought I was in love with her. I told her once and she laughed at me."

"Oh, Edward."

He shrugged. "I got over it. She made me realize that I wasn't in love. I just thought I should be. Once we both understood that it was just a summer thing—easy, uncomplicated—then we relaxed and had fun."

"Then back at school sophomore year I met Jayne. With a Y." He rolled his eyes. My ears perked up. This was the girlfriend that Esme had alluded to. "Jayne was in the same program as I was, so we were both really busy and driven. She liked to be in control." He made a chopping motion on the palm of one hand with the side of the other one. "She planned everything out to the tiniest detail. At first, I appreciated that. It was nice to be able to just show up. I felt like she was taking care of me. I took her home for Thanksgiving our junior year and my family hated her."

"I can't imagine Esme and Carlisle hating anyone."

He nodded, "They could see that she wasn't good for me. She was too controlling, too rigid. And she acted kind of weird around them, said some really inappropriate things. My mom took her out for a girls day and tried to talk her out of being with me. I was furious. It made us both dig in our heels against them. Oh, I was awful. I didn't even go home for Christmas that year."

"And THAT is why you don't want me talking to Esme? Are you kidding?"

"I know I'm being irrational. It's just kind of a bad association or something."

"It's ridiculous."

"I know. I'm sorry."

"In retrospect, I can see that I was never relaxed or happy around her. I thought I was stressed from all the studying, but they could see that it was her and they let me know in no uncertain terms. My folks said that if we ever moved in together, they'd stop paying for Stanford and make me come home to U-Dub." He laughed, "Thank god for that. Emmett was even afraid of her. He called her Jayne Payne—Dr. Payne."

"EMMETT was afraid of her?" Edward's brother is huge. He was a linebacker at U-Dub and now he's a personal trainer. "She must have been some piece of work!"

"Yeah she was, but did I listen to my family? No, of course not. Horny little 18 year old that I was, I stayed with her for another year. She wasn't all bad. She brought me out of my shell-taught me how to act around people and work the politics. Got me to socialize and schmooze a little. Taught me to dress well and pick out wine. We had some good times. She had our entire future planned out and I went right along with it. According to Jayne I was going to be a plastic surgeon and she'd be a dermatologist. We'd have a practice together and make a boatload of money and a bunch of other nonsense."

I laughed out loud. Edward HATES elective plastic surgery and thinks that the doctors and the industry that promote it are a disgrace to medicine. I wondered if that attitude was because of Jayne.

"I went home the following summer to work with my dad again and the distance helped me see Jayne the way my parents did. I knew I needed to separate myself from her and I tried, repeatedly, but she made it very difficult. I was stuck in all my classes with her. She was in my study group. She had twisted herself into every aspect of my life and refused to let go.

"Oh my gosh. She was like a stalker!"

"Mmm Hmm. I thought maybe my family could help, so I took her home for Thanksgiving again. We were sitting at dinner with my grandparents when she started talking about how I needed to propose at Christmas so that she could plan the wedding for the next summer before school started again. We were all shocked into silence, and my Great Granny Platt starts talking. 'Honey, I don't know where you got that idea, but you're _never_ going to be a Cullen, Sweetheart,' she said. She wasn't even a Cullen herself—she's Mom's grandma, right? But within five minutes she had my mom upstairs packing Jayne's suitcase, my dad online buying her a plane ticket, and Emmett pulling the car around front to take her to the airport and send her directly home to 'the people who care about her.' I was leaving messages for the registrar at school trying to change all my classes, and Grandpa Ed kept her cornered on the couch, preaching to her about how we'd all forgive her eventually and she'd find her "right path" with lots of prayer. Granny was like a force of nature."

"I wish I'd met her."

"Me too. You remind me of her."

"I do?"

"Yeah, when you set your mind to something, you're just as tenacious and stubborn as she was. You make things happen, but you do them in a way that doesn't hurt people. That's a real gift."

"I'm not that self-assured."

"You don't see yourself very clearly, Bella. When something's really important to you, you don't let anything stop you. Like tonight. Like the night we went out to eat in La Jolla and walked on the beach so you could knock some sense into me."

I stroked the side of his face. "Not you. _Us_."

"Ok, us. But mostly me."

I shook my head in disagreement. "So, after Dr. Payne-with-a-Y you swore off women, or what?"

"Kind of. She really did a number on me so I stayed away from girls. I fell back into geek mode. The rest of my time at Stanford, I focused on my studies and spent all my time in the library and the lab. Played my piano. I never went out for fear of running into Jayne. So I didn't really meet anybody. I had a few dates but nothing… Then I came to UCSD for my cardiac fellowship and fate caused me to bump into Miss Bella Swan."

I grinned. "Well, you certainly didn't seem like a geek to me that day. More like a Greek god."

"And you were my goddess. My muse. You made me so much better, Bell. You gave me a life beyond medicine and surgery and research. You made me happy and confident. You gave me a son." He leaned over to kiss me sweetly. "I'm sorry I shut you out for so long. I was really turning back into the anti-social guy I was before I met you and I'm so glad you were here to catch me before I regressed completely. Thanks for pulling me out of that." I smiled. "And I'm glad we finally got all this out in the open. It was long overdue, and that's my fault. I'm sorry."

"It's ok."

"No, it's no…" I put my hand up for him to stop.

"It's in the past. We're good now, right? Agreed that this is just for fun and new to both of us?" I placed a hand on the basket.

"Yes. I owe you a huge apology for letting my insecurity and lack of experience make you feel bad about yourself. Can you forgive me for that?"

"It's already done."

"Thank you." He kissed my forehead and pulled me into a hug. "Let's go to bed."

"What about that?" I asked, pointing to the basket. "Did you want to look through them and veto any?"

He shook his head. "Nah, we'll take 'em as they come. But we don't really have to wait until next week, do we?" He grabbed the basket and led me by the hand up the stairs. I smiled to myself, knowing that this hurdle was cleared, and we were going to be all right.

* * *

A/N

Sorry to keep you waiting for 3 weeks. I was on vacation (a cruise) and had trouble facing Bella & Edward's angsty marriage issues while I was happy and relaxed. I'm back at home, back at work, and finally ready to tackle the edits suggested by the lovely Besotted before I left. I'm glad I waited. The "after" version is much better. She always knows exactly what to do. She's on vacation now and didn't give the chapter a final look before posting it (my fault for being too slow!), so any errors are all mine.

Although I wasn't working on The Fantasy Basket, my vacation inspired me to start a new story. It's fluffy and fun—a romance between young Edward & Bella while they are on a cruise. Never thought I'd write something like that, but it just popped into my head! I'll probably post it when this one is done.

Thanks for reading and for being patient. Please leave me a review and let me know what you think.

JEN – 8/1/12


	15. Chapter 13, Esme: Bad Boy

**The Fantasy Basket**

**By JenEsme**

**Inspired by Stephenie Meyers' Twilight series. No infringement intended.**

**Chapter 13—Esme: Bad Boy**

**Posted 8/22/12**

March 1991

I wasn't too sure about this one. It made me a little nervous. As I got dressed in a tight, black, stretchy, lace slip dress, studded black high heeled shoes, and that silly studded collar I'd bought at Christmas time, I tried to put myself into the right frame of mind. _Tough Esme. Aggressive Esme. Dominatrix Esme. _ It was hard. I didn't want to come across sounding like a nagging, bossy mother. Ha—his mother! Now, there's a mean, tough lady if I ever saw one. Maybe I could act like her. No… I neededaggressive, not passive-aggressive. I read the fantasy again:

_You've been a bad, bad boy. It took a lot of courage for me to go into a porn shop, talk to the creepy guy there, and get you some fun new toys for your birthday. But you haven't even used them yet—not once! Tonight that's going to change. You will be punished and taught to appreciate what I do for you. Be in the bedroom tonight on your knees, with your hands behind your back, wearing nothing but your black underwear at 10:00 pm. No talking._

_OK—Strong Esme. Disciplining Esme. Teach Him A Lesson Esme. Ready or not, here I come._

Carlisle sat on his haunches on a pillow from the bed, waiting. I didn't give him time to react to what I was wearing, I just launched into it.

"Nothing stated that you should be kneeling on the comfort of a pillow. Give that to me and get up on your knees, now!" He handed me the pillow, wide eyed as he looked me up and down, from my hair that was pulled back severely to my black painted toenails peeking out of my studded sandals. "Let's get a few things clear. _I_ am in charge tonight. You do not speak, you do not touch, you do not come without my permission. And you do _not_ make yourself comfortable," I sneered and threw the pillow pointedly to the bed. "When asked to respond, you reply respectfully with 'yes, Mistress' or 'no, Mistress.' Do you understand?"

Carlisle looked at me, shocked.

"Speak."

"Yes, Mistress?" he whimpered.

"Good. Eyes on the floor! Now, we're here tonight because you've been a very naughty boy and I need to teach you a lesson. Do you recognize this?" I held the unopened box of 'Bondage for Beginners' restraints in front of him. "Speak."

"Yes, Mistress."

"And when exactly did you get this?"

"On my birthday, Mistress."

"Was your birthday not SIX MONTHS AGO?"

"Yes, Mistress." I could tell he was holding back a nervous laugh.

"Do you think it's funny, to ignore a gift that I worked hard to get for you?"

"No, I guess not."

"No, WHAT?"

"No ma'am. Sorry Mistress."

"That's better. Now, since you've neglected my gift for over six months, it's my duty to punish you. How old were you on your birthday?"

"41 Mistress."

"41. Very well, you'll have to receive 41 spankings."

"What?" Carlisle looked at me like I was crazy.

"Stand up, strip, and put your hands on the bed." He did as he was told, eyebrows knit with uncertainty. This was so completely out of character for me. For both of us.

"This may hurt just a little. If you need a break, say 'yellow.' If you need me to stop altogether, say 'red,' just like a traffic light. Do you understand? It's called a safe word."

He snorted, trying not to laugh. "Ok."

"Shut up! I don't know why you think this is funny. Maybe you want me to punish you more. Now bend over." I pushed his shoulders toward the bed. "And NO LAUGHING!"

That broke the dam. Carlisle couldn't hold back his chuckles, so I smacked him on the butt. "One, two, three, four, five." I didn't want to hurt him, but I had no idea how hard to hit. I've never even spanked the kids, except for that time when Emmett was three and took a red Sharpie marker to the carpet in his room while I was downstairs on the phone. Oh, I was furious. But I couldn't hit my baby hard. I just gave him three quick swats and a long time out in the corner while I scrubbed and scrubbed until the ink scribbles turned to a pink haze. I was so ticked off! Right now, Carlisle was ticking me off, laughing through his spankings. "Sssh! Just play along, would you?" I whispered. Jeez, this was hard enough without him mocking me.

"Sorry, it's just…" He started laughing outright, so I gave him five more swats, harder this time.

"Ow!" he complained through his giggles and rubbed his hand where it stung.

"No talking! No laughing! And keep your hands on the bed." I pulled the restraints out of the box, slapped the velcro around his wrists and knotted the long ties together. I smacked him ten more times. He tried to stifle his laughter, but his body was still shaking with it and tears started to flow from his eyes. I took ten more swings, one hand after the other as if I were playing the bongos. "Stop laughing at me!" Carlisle held his mouth shut, laughing through his nose. "Would you shut up?!" I was frustrated, but his laughter was infectious and I let out a snort or two as I quickly got through another ten—they weren't hard at all—bringing the spank count to 40. At this point, I just wanted to get this failed fantasy over with. Whatever this is supposed to do to turn people on, it really wasn't working for us.

"You are in so much trouble, Buster. You'd better brace yourself for this one." I brought my hand way up behind me, preparing for a big, powerful 41st spank to end this mockery. I swung my arm down quickly and could see him tense up in preparation for a painful one, but I stopped my hand an inch from his skin and lightly tapped my fingertips in a tiny, soft, staccato-like motion on his right cheek which I quickly followed with a peck from my lips, a giggle, and a caress of his slightly pinked backside. I felt him relax under my hand.

"I'll give you something to laugh about, Mister!" Suddenly, I launched an all-out tickle attack against his naked body. He jumped with a squawk and tried to crawl up the bed to escape, hindered by his bound hands. But I was relentless, attacking the soles of his feet as he tried to get away, laughing hysterically. He rolled over on his back and wrapped his legs around me, continuing to roll both of us until he was on top. I didn't let up with my hands, tickling wherever I could reach even though he held down the lower half of my body. He moved both bound hands to one of mine, pinning it above my head while I kept tickling him with my other hand. Somehow, he caught my free hand under his knee and pinned it to the bed. I struggled and squirmed, trying to break free until he bent down and gave me a searing kiss. I was instantly overcome, relaxed, docile beneath him. He came up for air and I smiled up at him.

"Hey, I'm supposed to be in charge here," I teased.

"Baby, you _are_ in charge. You have no idea the power you hold over me. Every inch of me. Every minute of the day. You are in complete and absolute control. He rolled us over as he spoke so I was back on top, his bound hands resting helplessly above his head.

"You laughed at me," I pouted.

He smiled. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to hurt your feelings. You're just so cute; so sweet," he laughed and rubbed noses with me. "And that was so far off base for you. I couldn't… I couldn't wrap my head around it. It was like watching a soft little kitten trying to be king of the jungle."

I smiled. "It did feel pretty awkward. I really had to psyche myself up for that, and your laughing did Not. Help. One. Bit!" I poked him in the chest and pursed my lips, pretending to be angry.

"That's not who you are, Ezzy. I like my sweet, cuddly kitten."

"But what if I want to be tough once in awhile? That's what a _fantasy_ is."

He looked at me thoughtfully, realization dawning on his face. Suddenly, he relaxed underneath me. His knees which had been hugged tightly around my hips, slackened. His fists unclenched as he rested his arms idly above his head. His face smoothed away any tension.

"As you wish, Mistress." He smirked at me. "Just please… no more tickling?"

I giggled and kissed him. "As long as you behave."

"Yes, Mistress."

He let me take complete control of our lovemaking. I used him well, no spanking required.

We lay, snuggling and spent afterwards.

"Did I tell you? I visited the gallery today."

"You did? That's been awhile."

"Yeah. It felt good, like going home or something, you know? Laurent was there and he started talking to me as if I'd never left, asking my opinion of some of the work he has there now and everything. We just picked right back up. It was really nice."

"That's great."

"He invited us to a show on Friday. Are you free?"

"I'll have to check my planner in the morning."

"Ok."

"Are you sure you want to dive back in? That was such a stressful job. You don't have to, you know. We don't need the money."

"I know. But I need to do something. I don't know what that is, yet. The boys are getting older and needing me less and less though, and I need to find something productive to do."

"You want to be in control, huh?" he taunted.

I rolled my eyes at him.

.

I was talking to Laurent, my old boss, at the gallery show the following Friday night. Carlisle had paged me "20-30" to tell me he was running late. "Esme, you've steell got it, Cherie. You always had zee best eye, zee best interpretation of our artist's veesion. Eet ees a gift. You are but a guest tonight and yet people are buying paintings because of your delightful conversations. Tis magnifique!"

"Perhaps you should pay me my old commission? I've been thinking about coming back to work, you know." I replied in his native French.

"Is that right? Please… have lunch with me on Tuesday. We will discuss possibilities, though I cannot promise anything. We have no open positions now, with the economy, you know, but perhaps something soon."

"Of course. I understand. Tuesday would be great, thank you. Oh, here's Carlisle." My husband approached, kissed me on the cheek, and extended his hand. "Sorry I'm late, Love, traffic was a mess. Laurent, it's been a long time. Nice to see you again." We chatted with my old boss until he was called away to help a patron. Then I guided Carlisle around the gallery, describing the paintings just enough to help his untrained eye understand them but not so much that my opinions would influence his own interpretations of the works we viewed. A few other patrons tagged along with us, listening in. I don't know if they thought I worked for the gallery, but by the time we'd seen everything we had amassed a following of five or six people, drawing the attention of the handsome young artist headlining the show. We talked with him and Tia, who works at the gallery, for a few minutes before I passed the onlookers off to them and turned my attention back to Carlisle.

"You really love this, don't you?" he asked, lifting an arm around my shoulders.

"I love the art. Though I was happy to hand those people off to Tia. I never liked the sales pitch part."

We were getting ready to leave when Laurent bustled up behind us, gushing about how excited he was that one of the gentlemen who'd been following me was going to buy piece #12. "Number 12! That was the riskiest piece we put in the show. The artist insisted, but I didn't think it had a chance of selling. Whatever did you say about it?"

"I didn't say anything special. I just call them like I see them, Laurent."

"Oh, Cherie!" He kissed me on both cheeks. "You're brilliant. Brilliant!" He hurried off to help someone else. "Tuesday!" he turned to remind me.

"What's on Tuesday?" Carlisle asked as he helped me on with my coat. I described my meeting-that's-not-an-interview as we walked down the icy street and into the restaurant where we'd made dinner reservations. "Just make sure you keep it public, Es, I don't trust that guy."

"What? What are you saying? It's Laurent! We worked together for years. He was never a problem." I couldn't believe Carlisle's request.

"Well, that's when he was married. I didn't like the way he was looking at you. Or the way he _kissed_ you." Laurent had mentioned that his wife left him a few years ago, taking the kids back to France. He was planning a trip the next month to attend his younger daughter's graduation.

_Oh my gosh, was Carlisle jealous?_ "Oh, Carlisle. He's French. It's a cultural thing. You know that."

"I don't trust him." Those were harsh words coming from Carlisle, who's known for his compassion and understanding. We moved on to another subject and enjoyed our dinner.

His fears were unfounded. The meeting went great. Laurent had warned me that there were no openings, so I'd really just hoped for recommendations to some of his friends at other galleries. However, he offered me the chance to cover for him during his four week trip to France the following month, and hinted that he would consider me to replace Tia in the fall. She would be leaving for New York to study for her MFA.

I was so excited. I hurried home and got right to work trying to find arrangements for the kids' after school care during the month I'd be working full time. I pulled something quick out of the freezer for dinner so that I'd have time to assess my wardrobe and see if I had anything appropriate to wear to work at the gallery. Most of my old work attire was hopelessly out of style now and a lot of what was left didn't fit anymore.

While I was busy planning what I'd need on a visit to the department store, it hit me that I'd neglected to plan for that night's fantasy. He'd chosen one today that required a trip to the store, and I didn't have time now to go, with all the shuttling of kids to and from school and practices and scouts I had this afternoon. Oh no! I didn't want to let Carlisle down. We were doing so much better lately. So I thought and thought about what I could do, and decided to surprise him with an alternate fantasy, celebrating my new (albeit temporary) job. I got out my paints and brushes, an old sheet to protect the floor, and a large canvas I'd gotten on sale and had been saving for a rainy day when I had time to paint. I put everything in the bedroom, found a smock and a beret, and smiled at the thought of painting each other and rolling around on the canvas. I couldn't wait to see what kind of art we would create together.

Luckily, Carlisle wasn't upset at the change and the painting turned out to be very interesting. It was abstract, obviously, with subtle hints of body parts and a lot of movement. I hung it above our bed. The job, he wasn't so sure about. When I told him Laurent would be in Paris the whole time I was working, he relaxed a little, but I wondered where his hesitation was coming from. "Just a feeling, Es. I get a bad vibe from him," was all he could tell me.

Weeks passed, and I started at the gallery. Tia was very helpful, showing me the computer systems and the voice mail, and teaching me to use email and the fax machine, though I could detect an air of superiority. I caught her rolling her eyes a few times when I wasn't catching on quickly enough. She thought I was an imbecile to not know how these things worked. I loved working with the artists and the patrons again. In that area, my knowledge far surpassed hers and I felt very comfortable. One day, a familiar name came across my desk. Siobhan O'Leary had made an appointment for the following afternoon. Where had I heard that name? I wondered all day and the next morning, trying to place the name with a face. Was she a parent at the kids' school or on one of their teams? No. Had Carlisle mentioned her? Maybe we had met her at one of the hospital fundraisers. _Hmm_…

Curiosity was plaguing me until a confident and very well dressed plump woman approached the desk at the gallery, leading a wealthy-looking couple who clearly didn't know what they were doing. She handed me her business card: "Siobhan O'Leary, here to meet with Esme at 3:00 o'clock." I looked at the card and read "Siobhan O'Leary Interior Design" and it hit me. _Victoria_! I shook off that image and greeted Siobhan and her clients warmly, asking questions to get a feeling for their taste and what they were looking for. Siobhan was good. The comments and recommendations she made to her clients were just what I consider when choosing art for my home. And I could tell she knew how to assess the pieces I displayed for them. I was thrilled when the couple bought two paintings and a sculpture for their new home. After writing the check, the couple left, leaving Siobhan behind to make delivery arrangements and we got to talking. She asked about Laurent and when I explained that I was only covering during his short absence and was looking for a permanent position, she kindly offered to introduce me to other gallery owners around Seattle.

We got along great and I was surprised that she'd worked with Victoria. She didn't seem to be her type at all. "You know, when you called yesterday, I knew I'd heard your name but couldn't for the life of me place where I'd heard it. Then, it came to me when you brought your clients in. An acquaintance of mine had mentioned that she'd worked with you to design her home. Victoria Hunter. She seemed very happy with your work."

"Ppffft, she did? She didn't seem happy with anything while we were working on it."

"Well, she was happy to boast about your _reputation_, anyway. Like I said, she's an acquaintance, not really a friend."

"Good. I didn't think you seemed her type." Siobhan echoed my very thoughts back at me. "She's… challenging. I hesitated to accept the engagement with her, but she kept throwing more money at me, so against my better judgment…" she shook her head. "I earned every penny of that one!"

I laughed. "I'm sure you did. And I'm sure her house turned out to be beautiful, despite the difficulty. It was so nice to meet you. Thank you for bringing your clients in to Laurent's."

That was one of my best days at the gallery. Most were a lot more stressful. Sales were hard to come by with the struggling economy. Tia proved herself to be quite conniving and competitive in her quest to win the few commissions there were to be had. My knowledge and experience couldn't match her youth and sex appeal when it came to wooing the male patrons. Not that I wanted it to. I hope I had never acted that way when I worked here in my 20s, and I wondered if Laurent knew his gallery was being represented that way. Well, she'd be gone in a few months. Perhaps he was just waiting for her to step aside.

On Friday of my third week at the gallery, I received an urgent phone call from the wife of Emmett's baseball coach. He'd hurt his ankle on a slide into second base at practice and it seemed to be pretty severe. The coach thought he should have it x-rayed. Carlisle was in surgery and couldn't pick him up. I couldn't reach the friend who was supposed to pick Emmett up when practice ended an hour later. My best friend Carmen and her family were out of town at a wedding. I couldn't leave work—Tia was on her dinner break and I had a follow up appointment scheduled 20 minutes later with a patron who was close to making a purchase decision. So, I did the unthinkable. My last resort: I called Carlisle's mother and asked if she could pick Emmett up and take him to the hospital. She was happy to pick him up and take care of her poor, dear, grandson, but her voice dripped with disdain toward me, the neglectful working mom. I knew before I called her that I'd have to deal with her wrath, but the anticipation of it didn't make it any less painful. I was just worried about my little boy and I felt sick that I couldn't take care of him myself. To have Betty rubbing salt in the wound made it that much harder. The sale I made was bittersweet. I rushed home to find Carlisle there with the boys. Emmett had a pretty bad sprain and would have to sit out the rest of the baseball season, but thank goodness it wasn't broken. I still felt terrible for not being there for him.

Sunday at church, Betty was at her passive-aggressive worst. Emmett, being on crutches, was a main topic of conversation among the congregation, and Betty made a point to note that she'd been the one to pick him up and take him to the hospital. She proudly proclaimed to her friends that she had never let Carlisle participate in any dangerous sports like baseball or football when he was a boy. She'd guided him toward safe activities like track and tennis. _Yeah, and did you know he still resents you for that, Betty?_ She made it quite clear that she didn't approve of the way I parent her precious grandsons, especially now that I'd made the selfish choice to go back to work.

We got home after hours of her verbal lashings and I was completely worn down. I felt so guilty about Emmett. I was doubting myself and my decision to leave my children in the care of other people. _Was I being selfish? Probably_. After we'd tucked the boys into bed for the night, I was in the kitchen planning dinners for the week and prepping tomorrow's meal. For some reason, I got really upset when I discovered that I was lacking two ingredients for the meal I planned to prepare on Wednesday. I put my head in my hands and started crying right there at the kitchen table. Carlisle looked up from the medical journal he was reading in the family room, perplexed.

"Esme, what's the matter?" he came to me and started rubbing my shoulders.

"I… Can't… Do this… Anymore." I choked out between my tears. "I tried… and I'm a big, fat… failure. I can't even make dinner on Wednesday. Tia's only 23 and she knows how to do everything. I suck! I totally suck! I had to resend the fax three times before it went through. And while I'm there failing, my kids are getting hurt. I wasn't even there for him. I'm so selfish… Your mom is right… He needed me and I wasn't there." I burst into sobs thinking about Emmett.

"Ezzy, Emmett's accident was not your fault. You couldn't have prevented it even if you were there at the practice with him. Don't be so hard on yourself." He rubbed my shoulders for a few minutes, as my sobs subsided, trying to massage out some of the tension. "At least you're almost done at the gallery. And now you know that going back to work wasn't such a good idea. It's nice that you had this short assignment to test that out."

I shook his hands off me, walked across the kitchen to the center island, and glared at him, shaking my head slowly at the realization of how insignificant he considered me to be.

"What? What's the matter?"

"You don't believe in me either."

"Don't be silly, Es. You're great at whatever you do, but maybe this is too much, too soon. You don't need to go back full time. We don't need the money or the benefits. So why torture yourself? Just wait awhile longer. Then when you're ready, maybe you could look for something part time. Maybe you could volunteer for the museum or something."

I tried to be strong and firm, but my traitor eyes teared up again. "God, don't you get it?" I sobbed. Obviously he didn't. He looked completely clueless. I put my hands on the countertop in front of me and looked down at one of the swirls in the granite. I realized I had a choice. I could cry and get angry and storm off to read one of my romance novels, where men treated women they way they needed to be treated or I could communicate, try to teach my husband why he offended me and how he could understand me better. I sniffled, took a deep breath, and prepared to delve into "Women 101." He deserved to know and it would help us both in the long run, right?

"Carlisle…" I still looked down, tracing swirls in the counter. "I want to tell you what's going on in my head. It may take me awhile to figure out what to say, to verbalize, so can you just… listen and not get upset and not offer any solutions while I'm trying to help you understand my perspective?" I turned to face him, leaning back against the counter.

He breathed sharply through his nose and pulled out the kitchen chair I'd vacated, turning it to face me as he sat, arms crossed over his chest. "Ok." I could tell by the tight line of his mouth and his clipped answer that he was delving into his defensive, arguing persona.

"I can tell you're getting upset. Please don't. I just want to talk to you and help you understand how I see things sometimes. You were being nice, but I got upset about something you said and I want to help you understand why." I took a deep breath to help calm my nerves. He relaxed a bit, crossed an ankle over his knee and rested his forearm on the kitchen table, drumming his fingers on the wooden tabletop. "All right."

I talked and talked and he listened. I explained, sometimes struggling to find words to describe the feelings and thoughts that went through my head, about how I was so conflicted between needing to be there for my family and also needing to feel validated. Needing to feel that my life was worth something more. I described how his very masculine reaction to fix things—in this case, telling me it was ok not to work—clashed with my innate, admittedly female desire to be appreciated and valuable, to be recognized and praised, to feel a sense of accomplishment; that I wanted to work not for the money but for the sense of value and worth it would provide me. I shared my fear that the longer I waited for "the right time" to pursue these things, the more obsolete I would become and the harder it would be.

"So, why didn't you just say _that_?"

I huffed. "I just did! That's why I asked you to sit still and listen, so I could get it all out!"

He let out a little scoffing laugh and scratched the back of his head. "Um… oh-kay." He knit his brow and looked at me, a little confused.

As uncomfortable as our talk started out, it turned into a really great conversation about how we communicate and interact with each other, about our needs and wants and goals for the future, about how we were raised so differently and the ways that affects us now. After over an hour, I felt that we'd achieved a lot, we understood each other so much better. He referred back to my stressed-out breakdown that had started the whole thing and he complimented me, reassured me, told me he'd support me in whatever came next. It was exactly what I'd needed to hear earlier and it gave me hope. Carlisle checked his watch and said he needed to get to bed. He had an early surgery in the morning. He surprised me by picking up the phone before going upstairs. He just smiled when I knit my brow to question whom he would be calling at 9:48 on a Sunday night.

"Dad, it's me. Sorry to be calling so late, but there's something that came up today that I need to talk to you about. No, Emmett's fine. Everyone's fine. Is Mother awake? Can you have her pick up the extension, please?"

As he waited for his mom to pick up the phone, I shook my head and waved my arms at him, encouraging him not to say anything to his folks. I didn't want to make even more trouble with them. He just blew me a kiss.

"Hello Mother. I wanted to talk to you both about something I should have brought up a long time ago. You know that I love Trinity and I'm happy to help with all the services and events when you need me, but there's an element within the congregation that is very hateful toward my wife and I won't subject her to that any more, so…" They must have interrupted him. "Well, you're my _parents_, yes, but Esme and the boys are my _family_ now. I'm responsible for _them_, and I won't continue to put them in harm's way, so I'm sorry to say that we won't be back until I'm certain that things have changed." My eyes grew wide. Carlisle grew up in that church—literally. It was a big part of his life. "No, Mother, Esme had no idea I was going to call you. Out of respect to you, she hasn't said anything for years, but after today _I've_ decided that enough is enough. I won't stand for any more poor treatment of my wife. So, please clean up this mess, apologize to Esme, and if that's done within a reasonable amount of time we won't have to look for a new church." I gasped. "I'm sorry, Dad. Good bye."

The following weekend, we went camping with the boys' Cub Scout pack. It was fun and relaxing to get away, a fitting end to my month-long stint as a working mom. I squeezed Carlisle's hand as he led a non-denominational religious service called a Scout's Own on Sunday morning for our tired group of campers. I knew he was thinking about the blow he'd delivered to his parents. After a few moments of silent contemplation, he put his arm around me and smiled as he led the group of boys and their families in a song of thanks and praise. That night after we'd returned home, unpacked, and washed the campfire smell out of our dusty hair and clothes, I found a piece of paper from the fantasy basket on my bathroom sink.

_Sundays are for you, my love. For years, you've worked hard and put up with my parents every Sunday. To thank you, I want you to take Sunday afternoons for yourself. Do something you enjoy every week. And if you so choose, I'll be waiting for you every Sunday night to give you a massage and make sweet love to my wonderful wife. _

A/N

sigh Wouldn't we all like to have a Carlisle? Well, my DH is not Carlisle, but he's mine. Happy Anniversary, Sweetie. Thanks for 22 and 28 wonderful years (even though you're not reading this!) XOXO

Happy Anniversary, Happy Birthday, and Welcome Home to the lovely Besotted, too. (Not _that_ anniversary, your anniversary with _me_!) One year ago today I sent a message out to the fandom asking for a beta, wondering if I should post this little story I'd been writing. No one would be reading The Fantasy Basket today if Besotted hadn't replied. Hugs and thanks for everything, my friend!

Thanks to everyone for reading, too. I apologize for the 2 week break. Summer vacations are over and the kids will be back in school soon, so we should get back to our routine.

Please leave a review. I'd love to hear what you've been doing this summer.

Jen

Twitter: JenEsmeFF


	16. Chapter 14, Bella: 4th of July

**The Fantasy Basket**

**By JenEsme**

**Inspired by Stephenie Meyers' Twilight series. No infringement intended.**

**Chapter 14—Bella: 4th of July**

**Posted 8/29/12**

July 4, 2012

I was dusting when the phone rang. "Hi Esme, how are you? We've been getting lots of deliveries and from what I can tell, I think we're going to love it!" My mother-in-law had called to check up on the orders she'd placed for our dining room and to let me know when the window coverings were scheduled to be installed.

"I hope so, Honey! Now, I wanted to warn you that you'll be getting some 8-foot tall silk trees. They're kind of cumbersome, so if you can find the boxes with the plant stands and have those set up on either side of your French doors, you can have the delivery guys put the plants right where they belong so that Edward won't have to lift them later."

Once we had all the decorating business squared away, she asked about Edward's birthday. I told her how Riley had taken his daddy to Sea World and insisted that we all sit in the front row at the whale show so we'd get splashed, and how he'd been so excited to touch a starfish in the tidepool.

"That sounds like a great day, Bella." I promised to send her some pictures. "And how did Edward like his present from _you_?"

_Oh my—what am I going to tell her?_ _I can't tell Esme that her son tied me up and licked frosting off my… _"Uh. Well… He certainly wasn't expecting anything like that. He was… shocked, a little hesitant, but ultimately in favor of it. And, um, it actually led to a good conversation about something we should have discussed a long, long time ago."

"Really? That's wonderful. I'm so glad it's helping in more ways than just the obvious."

I laughed nervously, "Yeah, me too. Thanks for, um, pushing me past my comfort zone."

"You're welcome, Bella. Don't worry, I won't press for details. I know it's very private. Trust me, these things are not easy for me to talk about, either. I just want so badly for the two of you to be happy that I'm willing help however I can. Both of us are, Honey."

"Thank you. You've helped so much already. We couldn't ask for better role models than you and Carlisle. I hope we can grow up to be just like you guys someday," I joked.

She chuckled and changed the subject, "Well, anyway, call me when all the boxes come in and you have an hour or two to put everything in place. I'll walk you through it and your beautiful home will be ready to impress everyone at your party next week."

Esme had helped more than she realized already. I lifted a picture frame off the bookshelf to dust underneath and reflected on my conversation with Edward the night before. I learned a lot about my husband when he revealed his past. I had always known that he had a tendency to feel vulnerable when he was especially stressed, but had never truly understood why. I knew that I was the only one he trusted enough to reveal the true Edward behind the cool, confident façade to, but I hadn't really known that guy underneath as well as I should have. I looked into the picture of his face in the wedding photo I held. It had always been unbelievable to me that this wildly successful, brilliant, and attractive man could ever feel insignificant or insecure. In the past, I had told myself that he's only human and we all have those days when we're not feeling self-assured. I encouraged him and stroked his ego when he seemed to need it without truly grasping why he needed me to do so. I replaced the frame and began to clean our piano. His piano.

As we became fully ensconced in the "real world" and our responsibilities increased, that lack of understanding had grown into resentment. I had stopped soothing him, reassuring him, because I didn't understand how badly or why he needed me to do so. And he had put the wall firmly back up in place. He had stopped letting me see his true feelings. Learning about his past last night answered so many questions, filled in so many blanks, smoothed out inconsistencies that I'd never understood about my own husband. The reasons for his lingering insecurity became very clear. He'd always been younger and smarter than his peers and always felt ostracized. He put so much pressure on himself to succeed that he neglected to develop in other ways. And the women he'd trusted with his heart had used him, controlled him for their own purposes without loving or nurturing him in return. It's no wonder he avoided future relationships and second-guessed himself with me. So many questions had been answered, blank spaces in my understanding of my own husband were finally filled in.

I smiled to myself when I threw the dust cloth into the hamper and saw my tight mini dress waiting to be washed. I'd slipped into it last night after fishing out the perfect fantasy card to boost his tender ego.

_You're a rock star and I'm your biggest fan. We've never met, but I just convinced your bodyguard to let me into your hotel room so you can have your way with me. I know it will be just this once and you probably don't even know my name, but you're my idol so I'll let you do ANYTHING just to spend the night with you._

He played the part to a tee, autographing my chest, calling me pet names, admiring my body as though he were seeing it for the first time, reveling in my hero worship of him. I didn't have to act much. Edward will always be a rock star to me, now more than ever, and I'll always idolize him. I vowed to never let him slip back into himself again.

…

"Oh, Bella, your home is lovely! Is this painting an original?" I noticed that she and her entourage were checking out labels and mentally assessing the value of everything in our home. What a bunch of snobs. Thank goodness Esme had insisted on "the best" for the most visible items, and known where to save money in less obvious areas. She knew exactly what these people would be like and how best to present ourselves to them. I love her! "Oh—I've always wanted a baby grand, they're so elegant. Not that we'd ever play it—who has the time to learn how to play? Too bad pianos can't play themselves." She let out a nasally laugh. "Now that would be the perfect solution—all the class with none of the hassle!" Her minions tittered and I raised my eyebrows and nodded in faux-support of her ridiculous idea as Edward slipped onto the bench with Riley and started playing the William Tell Overture. _Perfect timing, Clarkie_. It's not really a piano song, but he didn't miss a note, and Riley was thrilled with the booming melody. Mrs. Snobby Doctor's Wife's jaw dropped open and her friends looked admiringly at my husband. I smiled and excused myself. People started to gather around to listen and he finished the song and switched to God Bless America, followed by America the Beautiful. Riley was so cute, singing along at the top of his lungs, mumbling over words he didn't know. "Oh beautiful for special guys, for anger saves a bwains…"

By the time Edward finished, most of the guests had arrived and toured the main level of the house, so we lured them outside with the promise of food and drinks. It was our first annual (maybe) 4th of July party for the doctors from Edward's medical group and their families. It was my first real test as hostess of one of these events for this tough crowd. Everyone seemed happy. While our guests munched on appetizers and chips, gossiping, analyzing our home, and boasting of their own latest and greatest, Edward was grilling up a storm. Most of the older kids and teenagers were playing in the pool while the adults milled around talking. I'd hired a teenage girl from down the street to watch Riley and the other small kids. That was a huge help as I rushed around refilling drinks, making sure everything was well stocked, and stopping to chat or answer questions every few minutes.

I was startled to hear a man's voice behind me. "Well, if it isn't the lovely Isabella Cullen. Here, let me give you a hand with that." I had a platter of food in each hand, a wine bottle tucked under my arm, and was trying to open the French door to the patio by pressing my back against it. I could really use the assistance.

"Oh, thank y—" I began to walk through, but had to stop short and take a quick step back into the house to avoid bumping into him. Rather than twisting the knob, pushing the door open and stepping aside so that I could walk through, the portly, 50-something man had put his hand on the door over my shoulder and stood there, blocking me.

"It's been a long time. I don't think I've seen you since your wedding." he leered, eyes darting down and back up, "The photograph Edward keeps on his desk certainly doesn't do you justice." He smiled.

My back stiffened. "I'm sorry, I… Remind me of your name?" I had no idea who this guy was. I thought I'd met everyone Edward worked with. While I tried to place him, I was also struggling not to drop the wine bottle nestled under my arm. He reached for it with the hand not blocking the door and grazed my breast with his stubby fingers as he grasped the bottle. My eyes widened and then narrowed.

"Oh, I do beg your pardon, my dear," he claimed, sounding not at all apologetic as his eyes lingered a little too long on my chest. "I'm Doctor Jason Jenks," he answered haughtily, looking at me expectantly.

"Oh, of course." I struggled to compose myself, not wanting to cause a scene. "You and Carlisle..." Edward had recently reviewed the whole project with me so that I could understand his work in more detail and get all the names straight. Jenks was one of the three who had worked on Carlisle's idea since the beginning—the money partner from the technology firm that made the device used in the new procedure. I couldn't remember meeting him before. I think he was the one who lives back East somewhere. But I'd certainly remember him now—Jason Jenks, the pervert. I was bewildered that Carlisle, the nicest guy in the world, would associate with a creep like this.

He snorted. "Carlisle! I suppose you have Carlisle and me to thank for this pretty little mansion. And Dr. Snow, of course. I happened to be the technical brains behind it all, you know."

"Is that right? Well, Dr. Jenks. If you'll excuse me…"

His lip curled into a creepy smile as he finally twisted the knob, pushed the door open and held it to the side so I could step through with my trays. "My friends call me Jay," he offered with a wink. _Gross_! As he released the door, he placed his hand on the small of my back, leading me toward the outdoor kitchen. It was a struggle not to squirm away from his hand.

"Thanks for your help Dr. Jenks." I set down my trays and retrieved the wine bottle from him. "Have you had a chance to try out the pool yet? I'm sure you could use some cooling off on such a hot day." I smiled sarcastically and tried my best not to sneer. He smirked as I rounded the barbecue island to stand next to my husband, who was chatting with Dr. Clearwater and her husband as he grilled. Thankfully, I'd gotten over my jealousy of her. We had talked at a party-slash-fundraiser that was held in honor of the hospital's marathon team a couple of weeks earlier and after getting to know her, I found that I actually liked Leah quite a bit.

"JJ, I see you've met my Bella!" Edward greeted Dr. Sleazeball with a big smile, oblivious to what had just taken place. I put my arms around his waist and tucked myself into his side, prompting him to put down his tongs and wrap his arm around my shoulders.

"Indeed I have, and what a pleasure young Edward. You never told us how enchanting your lovely wife is." As my hand unconsciously squeezed his waist in anger and fear, Edward glanced down at me and then looked back at Jenks. No one could see his eyes behind the sunglasses he wore, but from the tension in his face, I knew he was glaring.

"She certainly is. I'm sure you can understand why I want to keep her to myself, away from all of us unsavory characters at the hospital." He pulled me closer and kissed me on the temple. "Are you ok?" he whispered into my ear.

I nodded and moved to kiss him back, but we were interrupted.

"Oh, there you are, Darling. Have you seen the pool? It's absolutely gorgeous. The infinity edge looks like it drops right off into the canyon." It was Mrs. Snooty Doctor's Wife—SHE was married to Jenks the pervert. Classic!

"No, Dear. But Mrs. Cullen here was just suggesting that I take a dip. I may just take you up on your offer, Isabella. Did you bring my suit, Dear? Edward. Isabella. Pleasure…" He winked at me and turned to trail after his wife.

I scowled at his retreating figure, "Oh my god, Edward, what an asshole!"

"What did he do? Did he touch you?" Edward was fuming.

"I'll tell you about it later," I answered, shaking my head, "Just keep him away from me, please—as far as possible!" I shuddered at the memory of his fingers brushing against my chest.

Edward pulled me into another hug. "I'm sorry, Bell," he whispered.

"Did you know he's 'the technical brains behind it all' and that we have him to thank for this 'pretty little mansion?'" I mimicked his pompous voice and made quotes with my fingers.

"Seriously? He said that? What a slimeball!" Leah shook her head in disgust.

"Pfft—I'm not surprised. He's such a windbag!" Edward described Jenks to Leah's husband, Seth. "His company, MicroCardiOptics, developed the device we use in the new surgery. He and my dad and Dr. Snow started the research on this whole thing years ago—decades—like in the 80s. I came down to UCSD so I could work with Dr. Snow, and sort of took over his role when he retired last year. Remember his party? JJ still lives back east but he's been out here a lot this year for the launch. He's always been a jerk, but he is a key part of the team, unfortunately." Edward squeezed my shoulders and turned back to the grill.

"Yeah? Well, just keep that turkey away from me. And I don't want him anywhere near Sarah, either! That guy's got sexual predator written all over him." I had enough trouble getting along with the neighbors, and couldn't imagine what it would be like if he made a pass at the neighbor girl I'd hired to watch the kids during the party.

"I'll keep an eye on him, Babe. I'm sorry he…"

"It's ok. Not _your_ fault." I kissed him and turned my attention to the Clearwaters. "So, how are _you_ doing?" I raised my eyebrows, knowingly, not sure if they had announced their pregnancy yet.

"I'm great. Never better," Leah replied with a big smile. "I'm on the agenda for the partner meeting on Friday. We'll see how that goes." She shrugged her shoulders in nervous anticipation. It was odd to see her in this different context. When I'd met her at the hospital or at professional functions in the past, she'd been all business, very tough. Here, hand in hand with her husband, she seemed much softer, more approachable. Maybe it's because she's pregnant, or maybe it's because I was finally giving her a chance, who knows? Seth stood behind his wife and wrapped his arms around her, nuzzling her neck lovingly. They were so cute together. Even before I'd seen her softer side, I'd thought that Seth and Leah were a real hoot: Leah is so strong and independent and businesslike. Seth is the polar opposite. He's a freelance graphic designer/creative director, and is the most laid back, easy going, friendly surfer dude you'd ever meet, but he's sharp as a tack and extremely successful despite his casual demeanor. I'm glad I cleared the air with Edward and gave them another chance. He was right about wanting to be friends with them.

Once all of our guests had been schmoozed, I stuck with the Clearwaters for most of the party and invited them to watch the fireworks with us later.

"Hey Everyone!" The party was winding down and Edward hopped up on the edge of the unlit fire pit so the crowd could see him. "I wanted to thank you all for coming today. It's great to see you outside of the hospital and to meet your families again. I hope you've had a nice time and wanted to thank my beautiful wife. Bella?" He found me at the front of the crowd and held his hand out to help me up onto the bench. I had Riley on my hip and hugged him closer to me while shaking my head no, but Edward insisted, pulling me up into place next to him. I flushed with embarrassment and tried to hide behind Riley. Edward took him from me, placed his empty arm around my shoulders, and looked down at me with admiration before addressing the crowd again.

"Not only did this lady plan and prepare everything for today, while keeping tabs on this guy," he jostled Riley, "but eight months ago, this house was an empty box with bare white walls. The yard and the pool that we're enjoying today were nothing but a dirt lot. Bella has done a fantastic job turning our new house into a home that we can enjoy and share with all of you. Thank you so much, Babe." He squeezed my shoulders and kissed me while our guests applauded. "You done good, Bell," he whispered in my ear. "You won them over. Thank you so much for all your hard work."

I was so embarrassed to be the center of attention like that, but I managed a sheepish smile and a little curtsey.

"Now, WE are taking this little guy to see the fireworks, so all of YOU people have to get the hell out of here," he joked. When their laughter calmed down, he continued, "Seriously, though, thank you all so much for coming and sharing the holiday with us. I couldn't ask for a better group of people to work with and call my friends. Happy Fourth of July!" Edward does know how to turn on the charm when it's called for. I know he can't stand half of these people. As we stood by the back gate, he smiled and laughed, man-hugged the guys, charmed the ladies, played with the kids, and made everyone feel like his best friend as they said their goodbyes and filed out. I quietly thanked everyone for coming and endured countless air kisses against my cheeks and compliments on the house and party. _Who does that? I thought that air kissing thing was only done in other countries. These upper crust people are like foreigners to me, I suppose._ I was certainly never exposed to air kisses or home tours growing up. A punch on the shoulder or maybe a fist bump were the preferred greetings among my dad's police station buddies or his friends from the reservation. Having been married to Edward for a few years, I should have been used to it by now, but it always struck me as odd and uncomfortable and kind of fake. _I hope I don't turn into one of them. I'll have to ask Esme how she managed to keep things real_.

As the last few families gathered up bags and towels and headed out to their fireworks-watching destinations, the Yees and the Whitlocks arrived. We'd invited them and the Clearwaters to join us out on the Renesmee for the Big Bay Boom. Except for our first year together—when I went home to Phoenix for my last summer vacation before returning in August to get married and start a real job in the real world—Edward and I had spent every Fourth of July since we'd met downtown on the water front, watching the beautiful, synchronized fireworks displays that were launched from four different barges out on San Diego Bay. We'd discovered the perfect spot to watch from over the years, a spot where it felt as though we sat directly underneath the booming explosions of light and color, where we could feel each boom, each pop, each sizzle and crackle vibrating in our bones, where we could look to the right or the left and see the same show occurring in the distance at three other locations, where we could hear the radio station's simulcast of patriotic music blaring from huge speakers at the waterfront park, perfectly synchronized to the fireworks. When Edward bought his sailboat to celebrate his board certification and promotion to partner, we exchanged our waterfront seats for a spot out on the bay where we could see the lights burning above and their reflections shining in the water around us. It was magical. Truly awe-inspiring.

We laid anchor on the water a couple of hours before the 9:00 pm show and enjoyed visiting with our friends while we munched on leftovers from the afternoon party. Edward and Ben were keeping Riley and the twins entertained. Alice's husband Jasper, a professor of American history, was deep in conversation with Leah, discussing something about her Native American heritage that apparently fascinated him. Alice was talking excitedly to Seth Clearwater. Well, Alice is always excited, but even more so since she found out that Seth does the marketing for San Diego's annual fashion showcase and had offered to introduce her to some people he knew so that she could present her designs.

Angela and I were taking it easy at the front of the boat, enjoying a rare moment of quiet and talking about the impending birth. She was a month away from her due date.

"Bella, I met with Dr. Banner and I just loved him. Thank you so much for the referral. He is completely supportive of natural childbirth, even though I have to do a VBAC, and he says I have a really good chance of succeeding. I'm excited to work with him and try to have the birth experience I want this time."

"Oh, that's great! I wish I'd found him before we had Riley. I can't wait to hear how it goes."

"Yeah. Actually, Bella, I wanted to ask you something." She seemed a little nervous.

"Sure, what is it?"

"I know we just met, but I already feel like you're such a good friend, and…"

I leaned in a little closer and nudged her shoulder with mine, "Me, too."

"Well, I was wondering if you'd like to come to the birth."

I gasped, "Really? Oh, I'd love to be one of the first people to meet her."

"No, Bella, I mean, would you be willing to come in the delivery room and help me through it?"

I covered my mouth in shock. "Oh my gosh, Angela. Are you serious?"

She nodded, "Yes. Please! I need someone. Neither of our moms is going to be there. They're going to come and help after the baby's home since Ben won't be able to take much time off from his new job. Ben will be in the delivery room, of course, but he's nervous about it. Did I tell you that he passed out when the twins were born?"

"You're kidding!"

"Really—he hadn't eaten anything and he was so worried that he fainted. One minute he was standing there and the next minute he was flat on the floor!" We laughed.

"Poor Ben! Was he ok?"

"He was fine—humiliated, but fine. But while all the nurses were taking care of _him_ I was freaking out about what was happening with me! They abandoned me!" she laughed again.

"O, you poor thing!"

"Yeah! So anyway, I think you would be a great comfort and help to both of us if you would come. Plus, when we moved I was really disappointed that I wouldn't be able to use the doula I had lined up in Seattle. I know you're not trained or anything, but you have been through natural childbirth and it would be very reassuring to have you there with us."

"Oh Angela, I'm honored. Thank you for asking."

"If you need to think it over, it's fine. I won't be upset if it's not something you want to do."

"Are you kidding? I am so excited and thrilled that you would want to share your special day with me. Thank you! I will BE there, for sure, day or night. Thank you! I can't wait." I squealed and gave her a great big hug.

"What's all the excitement up here, ladies? You're rocking the boat, Babe!"

Remembering his need for touch, I reached out and grabbed Edward's hand, pulling myself to my feet so I could wrap my arm around his waist. "Oh Edward, Angela asked me to help with the birth."

He was very supportive, telling Angela how great I'd been when I had Riley, how well I'd educated myself, and what a calm, relaxing influence I'd be for them on their big day. He surprised me with his compliments, since he'd been a little skeptical of my desire for a natural delivery at the time.

"Thank you," I whispered in his ear. He kissed me and gave me a wistful look—babies on his mind, no doubt. I changed the subject.

"It's almost time for the fireworks to start. Do you have the earmuffs for Ri?"

As a baby, Riley had—unbelievably—slept through the whole 20 minute show. Last year, he cringed, covered his ears, and cried with each boom. This year we wondered how he would react. We brought some noise-blocking headphones for him and hoped he'd enjoy the fireworks more than last year. He did. In fact, he loved them. His face was the picture of wonder—eyes wide, mouth hanging open, head tilted back so he could look straight up from my lap to the exploding embers in the sky. As much as I love seeing the fireworks, I was even more enthralled with watching his little face as he enjoyed them. I felt my heart swell and tears prickle in my eyes at his sounds of amazement,

"Oooooo…. Wook, Mama!... So pwetty." I wrapped my arms around my son, leaned against my husband's shoulder, looked up to the sky, and felt pure joy.

…

A few days later, I was at Alice's, modeling some dresses she'd made from her designs so she could photograph them for a meeting with the director of the San Diego Fashion Festival.

"Bella, you have no idea how grateful I am for introducing me to Seth. This is huge for me. It could start my career as a designer and get me out of Nordstrom. Oh," she sighed, "this is a step toward my dream."

"I'm happy for you, Alice. I really had no idea that Seth had that connection. It worked out perfectly, didn't it?"

"Really? You didn't know?"

"Nope! Riley, hands off, please. Those are Auntie Alice's clothes. No touching, Buddy! Look, here's your truck." I handed him a toy to divert his attention and he toddled off to the kitchen to roll it around on the tile floor.

"Ok, Bella, _this_ is the last one." She held out an animal print corset with matching panties that tied at the hips. It was really beautiful and unlike anything I'd seen before, with black lace and asymmetrical straps that were woven and twisted into really interesting patterns.

"Alice! I can't wear that! You said you wanted me to model some of your dresses, not lingerie!"

"Oh Bella, please? I want to show them my versatility, and a picture of this by itself just won't do it justice, it needs to be modeled. I'll leave your face out of the picture if you want me to. Please, Bella!"

"Alice, I don't have the body for something like that anymore."

"Pfft! Do you really not realize how gorgeous you are? I want my clothes to appeal to real women with real bodies. You're perfect for this. I kind of designed it with you in mind, actually."

"You're kidding!"

"No. After talking to Seth about the demographics for the show, I wanted to come up with a few new pieces. You fit into that group, so I got to thinking about what would look good on you and for some reason your Fantasy Basket popped into my head and this was the result."

"Wait, you made some of these since Monday?"

"Mm hm. This one and that, and that…" she pointed out five or six different items.

"Oh my gosh, Alice, don't you ever sleep?"

"Not much at all this week. I've been so excited. This could be my big break, Bella. Come on, please help me!" She shoved the lingerie hanger and a pair of elbow-length black satin gloves into my hands. "I'll give you copies of the pictures for Edward" she said slyly.

"Great—now you're a pornographer, too?" I teased.

"Bella! Just put the darn thing on and get your tush out here before we lose the sunlight."

I rolled my eyes, "Fine! But if these photos ever make it onto the internet I will kill you!" She shook her head and rolled her eyes. "And you better Photoshop out the stretch marks."

While I was changing, she started a DVD to keep Riley occupied. Although I was hesitant to admit it, Alice's creation was pretty hot. I felt kind of sexy looking in her full length mirror and I thought about wearing it for Edward as Alice positioned me and started taking photos.

"Wow, girl, who are you and what have you done with our demure little Bella? Oh my god. You look really hot! Hey—do that again. Let me get a picture of that."

I'd never seen Alice blush before, but she seemed really flustered. I may have gotten a little carried away with my thoughts and posed pretty provocatively.

"Bella, you HAVE to take this home for when you guys do the animal fantasy. It's perfect."

I blushed and bit my lips closed to hold in a giggle.

"What?"

"You're not going to believe this." She raised her eyebrows, questioning. "He picked that one for tonight," I whispered.

She started clapping and bouncing. "Oh my god, seriously? That's so perfect!"

"This is too much, though—it's your creation. Won't you need the sample at your meeting?"

"No—take it. I actually made two, so I'd have one for Jasper. I can use that one as a sample so you can wear this one tonight. Please take it. And the only payment I'll accept is a full account of its effectiveness. My gosh, Bella, _I'm_ turned on looking at you in this—He's going to come in his pants as soon as he sees you."

"Alice, jeez!" I looked toward Riley, hoping he didn't hear. Thankfully, he was engrossed in Lightning McQueen's antics on the TV.

She giggled and rolled her eyes at my prudishness. "Just wear it. You'll see."

I had blanched when I found this morning's card on my bathroom vanity. The fantasy it described was pretty wild, and explained why Edward had growled and nipped at my neck when he woke me up on his way out:

_Animal style is on the menu tonight, and I'm not talking about In-N-Out Burger (though there will be some in & out action.) Tonight you're the predator & I'm the prey. Pursue me, Chase me, Jump me, Restrain me, Bite me, Mark me, Mount me, Hard and fast, from behind. Make me groan and howl with desire for you. _

_Holy crow!_

Reminders of the fantasy kept popping up all day. I saw two dogs humping at the park in the morning, their owners red-faced and tugging at the leashes with all their might. Alice's just happened to design the new lingerie for the animal fantasy. And on the way home, I passed an In-N-Out Burger. We don't go there often, Edward being a heart surgeon and all, but when we do, he always orders his burger Animal Style.* Then, as I was putting Riley to bed, I heard some coyotes howling in the canyon behind our house. Wow—Esme's prediction that the fantasies would keep my mind on Edward all day long was certainly holding true today. I was nervous, but also really excited to play this one out.

I changed into the lingerie, making sure that the straps holding everything together were tied in bows that could be easily loosened. As I flicked off the bathroom light, I peeked over to see Edward through the cut-out window between the bedroom and retreat, fiddling with his Ipod. I stood in the retreat for a moment, wondering how to initiate this animal fantasy. I was a little nervous and hoped he'd take the lead on this one. As I stood there trying to gather courage, I heard the distinctive opening beats of Nine Inch Nails' _Closer_ streaming from the bedroom and smiled at Edward's initiative. I paused for a moment, eyes closed, absorbing the music, and then I knew what to do. I skipped the doorway that led into the bedroom and peered instead through the cut-out niche, dancing suggestively with my hands in my hair:

_You let me violate you_

I had my eyes closed at first to help me get into the music… and into the mood.

_You let me desecrate you_

I was watching him now as I danced. Edward saw movement in his peripheral vision and turned to look at me. I stared into his eyes and flirted as I swayed and writhed.

_You let me penetrate you_

I'm not much of a dancer, but his eyes widened and I saw his chest heaving with deep breaths as he watched me bite my lower lip.

_You let me complicate you_

His tongue peeked out of his lips and he flung the covers off his legs.

_Help me. I broke apart my insides_

I spread my hands on the sill and leaned toward him as I sang the three "help me's", giving him a seductive look and a prominent view of my corset-enhanced cleavage as I moved to the music. (I don't know the rest of the lyrics. It's not really a song I can listen to in the car with Riley!)

_Help me. I've got no soul to sell._

He leaped out of bed, clad only in his black boxer briefs. My eyes honed in on the bulge in them and then travelled slowly up his toned abs and chest and past his broad shoulders, landing on his flushed face.

_Help me. The only thing that works for me._

Saliva pooled in my mouth as my heart raced. Suddenly, he stood at the other side of the window, breathing heavily, as I was, and reaching for me. I backed away from his reach—teasing—and he pounced through the cut-out, pursuing me.

_Help me get away from myself. _

That surprised me. My dance forgotten, I squealed and scurried behind the couch. He growled the lyrics at me—well, one line of the lyrics, you know the one—as I led him in a sexy game of cat and mouse around the couch.

_I want to Fuck you like an animal…_

Right or left, I always managed to keep away. Maybe he let me win, I don't know, but it certainly got my blood pumping. He finally captured me by leapfrogging lithely over the back of the couch as I rounded behind it. He lunged, twined his fingers in my long hair, and yanked me toward him (not too hard, he'd never hurt me). He pulled my back against his chest and growled the lyrics again as he jerked my head sideways, exposing my neck and shoulders to his teeth and lips. As he nipped and licked, our bodies undulated together to the hypnotic beat of the music. I reached behind me to pull his ass closer, smiling at what I felt press into my lower back. Edward nuzzled my hair and traced the edges of my corset, scratching his fingers upward along the zig-zagging laces from my navel to chest. When he reached the bow, he tugged it open, loosening the corset enough to reach in and pull my breasts out of the top, squeezing and rolling them in his hands. I moaned and began to writhe against him. I was desperate for a kiss but when I tried to turn and face him, he squeezed me tighter to his chest, restraining me. He clawed his fingers around the edges of the corset and tried to pull it apart. He pulled and tugged with both hands, impatient to uncover me. I placed my hands on top of his to calm him so he wouldn't tear the garment Alice had worked so hard on, and guided him back to my breasts as I unbound the laces as quickly as I could.

The corset popped apart at last, revealing my abdomen, and I held it wide open as I leaned my head back onto Edward's shoulder. The song had ended, but we didn't need it anymore. It had done its job. He pulled the garment away from me and tossed it on the couch before turning, lifting me around the hips, and slinging me over his shoulder.

"Edward! Put me down!" I laughed, swatting him on the butt as my face filled with blood, making me lightheaded as he jogged through the doorway and tossed me onto the bed. With a devious smile, he crawled up the bed toward me, looking every bit the feral predator he pretended to be as he straddled me and pinned my arms above my head with his own. My mind was excited, exhilarated, but my body reacted in fear. Adrenaline surged. Fight or flight reflexes kicked in. I struggled to pull my hands loose, but his strong arms bound them above me. I rolled side to side trying to release my body from underneath him, but he clenched his thighs tighter around my hips and hooked his feet around my legs as he leered at me with a wolfish grin.

My heart raced. My breath came in shallow pants. I was trapped. Edward leaned closer and ran his nose along my neck, from collarbone to just behind my ear, inhaling my scent. He bit my earlobe and followed the same path back down with his tongue, nipping and licking his way to my shoulder before repeating it on the other side. He held his face an inch above mine and released my wrists to grip the roots of my hair. We stared into each other's dilated eyes and breathed each other's exhalations for a few moments before he took in a deep breath and attacked my mouth, his hands holding both sides of my head. I moved my hands to his shoulders, squeezing and digging in with my nails. Edward began moving down my body, first with his hands, and then with his mouth aggressively kissing and sucking. He squeezed my breasts together and rubbed his face in them, moaning, circling his thumbs over my pert nipples before sucking one and then the other into his mouth, with a deep groan.

As he suckled, nibbled, and flicked my elongated nipples with his tongue, I grabbed him by the hair and pulled him closer, arching my back. As he tugged them with his teeth, I turned my head from one side to the other and panted through the sensation that extended from my sensitive nipple directly to my engorged clitoris. Suddenly, his lips wandered to the upper curve of my left breast and bit, then sucked—hard. Oh my god, he was marking me. It had been years since he'd given me a hickey.

"Ohhhhhhhhh," I moaned. He pulled back to admire his handiwork, smiled up at me proudly, and continued kissing, licking, sucking, biting, and squeezing and scratching his way down my torso. He squeezed my hips and pulled loose the ties that held my panties together, tearing them from me and tossing them aside. I smiled at the easy access. Alice is a genius.

Now bared to him, I expected him to dive right in with his tongue, but Edward surprised me by moving down the outside of my leg, kissing, licking, and sucking his way down to my foot. I cried out when he lifted it and bit the arch, hard. Wow—a flash of liquid heat flowed through my whole body at that sensation. How had we never discovered that spot before? He massaged my feet, ran his hands up and down both of my calves and then moved his mouth to the other leg, working his way back up. This time, he forged a path up the inside of my leg, leading to my inner thigh. I could feel a surge of wetness between my legs as he sniffed then licked then kneaded my inner thighs with his hands.

I needed to feel him, but when I tightened my legs around his head and squirmed, trying to lead his mouth to the center, he shrugged me off and looked up, flashing his eyes in a show of dominance. He backed up quickly onto his haunches and slammed my knees shut, holding them closed with his hands while shaking his head no. I whimpered in dismay and loss, desperate for his touch, his tongue, anything to relieve the tension that was building between my legs. He smirked down at me and rubbed his hands up and down the tops of my thighs, avoiding the places I needed his touch the most.

_Time to fight back_. I moved my foot up to his crotch, slowly rubbing my foot up and down the bulge in his underwear and catching my big toe under the elastic so that I could tug them down for a peek at his tip. His hands stilled on my knees as he closed his eyes and tilted his head back with a sigh. Quickly, so that I could catch him off guard, I placed both of my feet flat against his chest and pushed, knocking him backwards onto the bed. _I'm so glad we got the California King._ I sat up and pinned his arms to his sides with my knees as I straddled his chest, taking the dominant position for myself.

"You've been holding out on me," I accused, sitting up tall on my knees which placed my swollen, wet pussy directly over his face. He breathed in deeply, inhaling the scent of my desire for him, and released a stuttering breath. He tried to wiggle his arms free but I held them firmly to his sides with the tight grip of my thighs. "If you won't touch me," I grabbed his jaw and pulled it open, placing my index and middle fingers in his mouth as I spread my labia open with my free hand. "I guess I'm going to have to take things into my own hands." Edward gasped as I used my wet fingers to work my clitoris mere inches above his face. He looked up into my half-closed eyes, pleading,

"Bella…" I couldn't respond. I was too close, feeling a warm tingle start to build under my fingers. My legs shook and started to lose strength, enabling Edward to free his arms. As I careened over the edge into trembling bliss, Edward cupped my ass with his hands, holding me steady as my body began to buck and shake.

"Ohhhhh… Oh god... Oh my god …" I sat back down on his chest, his hands moving to my hips as I panted through my recovery and pushed sticky, curling strands of my long dark hair away from my sweaty face. I looked down to find a frighteningly calm expression on my husband's face.

"You really shouldn't have done that," he warned. Before I had a chance to lift my eyebrows in question, he had switched our positions, flipped me over onto my hands and knees, and held my hair in one fist as he awkwardly tried to pull his underwear off with one hand. "Stay!" he commanded with a tug to my hair, and used both hands to quickly free himself from the boxer briefs. Suddenly, he towered behind me and lifted my hips into alignment with his stiff cock. Without warning, he plunged it into me, slamming his pelvis against my ass as he filled me causing me to scream and rock backwards into him.

"Oh, Edward…. Oh god…. Feels so good…. Fuck…" My swearing turned him on and he sped up, slamming into me—hard and fast. I was turned on by the slurping, slapping sound of our sweaty bodies colliding with each thrust and it felt incredible, but my arms couldn't handle it. I collapsed down onto my elbows, and cried out at the even deeper penetration and increased sensation afforded by the new angle. I began sobbing, "Oh Edward…. it's so good…. oh my god, oh my god, oh my god…." I pulled in a couple of deep, shuddering breaths to keep myself from hyperventilating and felt my walls start to clench around him. "Right there. Yes. Yes. Yes. Yes. So close. Ohhhhhhhhhhhh. Oh Edward." A burst of tingling heat exploded deep inside and spread inch by inch to the very tips of my fingers and toes. As I came down from my mind-blowing orgasm, I felt a surge of energy, allowing me to speed up again and push back into him with even more power.

Edward appreciated the effort. _Slap, slap, slap_… He was relentless, slamming into me harder, faster, louder for what seemed like an hour, shifting his position behind me to alter the effects. I was almost ready to worry why he was lasting so long when his climax overtook him, "Oh Bell… Jesus Christ… Oh, my god, woman, what you do to me… Oh, fuck, fuck, FUCK!" He roared and held my hips still against him as he came, thrusting even more deeply into me with each pulse of his release. I could still feel him twitching inside me afterwards as he held us still and tried to catch his breath, on his knees with one hand on my hip and the other rubbing circles on my back. When our heartbeats slowed down, Edward bent his torso over me, held me close against his chest, and laid us down together on our sides, maintaining our intimate connection as we spooned. He lifted my hair up away from our sweaty skin and placed small kisses along my shoulder while rubbing his hand up and down my side, from hip to breast.

"I love you." He pulled me into a hug.

"Love you, too." I grasped the arm he had slung over me and held it tightly to my chest, fingers intertwined.

He lifted up onto his elbow so that he could peer over at me. "You ok, Babe? I didn't hurt you, did I?" He placed a gentle kiss on my temple.

I smiled at his concern and shook my head. "Mmmmm… That was incredible! So good. Oh, you just kept going and going."

He chuckled.

"Did you do something differently? You didn't take Viagra or something, did you?"

He laughed and nuzzled his head into my neck. "No, I just couldn't stop. I didn't want it to end. Ever." He kissed the shell of my ear.

"Well, thank you." I squeezed my Kegel muscles around his cock, causing him to chuckle.

"Mmmm…. Thank _you_!" He lifted my breast and ran his thumb over the mark he'd left on it, proudly admiring his handiwork.

"I can't believe you did that! I have my annual with Dr. Banner next week. What's he going to think?"

Edward laughed out loud, "I'm sure he's seen worse things."

"Yes, but not on me!" I shook my head and muttered, "I can't believe you did that. Like a teenager or something. Fine, upstanding doctor YOU are!"

He snickered, smugly.

I squeezed around him again a couple more times and he giggled. "Hey… Much as I like that, it's time to say goodbye."

"Hm mm." I pouted and squeezed again.

"Bella," he chuckled, "Stop. We're gonna make a mess." He pulled me into a tighter hug. "I wish I could stay inside of you forever." He put his hands on my belly.

I placed my hand over his, lifted them, and kissed his palm. "That would make jogging difficult."

He snorted and reached behind him to grab some tissues. "YOU are difficult, silly girl!" He pulled out of me and we snuggled back together after cleaning up.

"Thanks again for the basket. I liked this animal one."

"Me too. Maybe we can do it again sometime?" He smiled and raised his eyebrows in anticipation. "Nice song selection, by the way."

"Yeah, that was supposed to repeat. Sorry, I was a little distracted."

I rolled over and looked at him. "It was perfect." I looked right into his eyes, placing my hand on his cheek, "God, you're sexy."

He smiled and gave me a kiss, "You, too, Babe. Speaking of sexy, what was that you were wearing?" he let out a low whistle.

"Oh, Alice."

"Damn!"

She was on the phone first thing the next morning. "Well?"

"Um… He sends his thanks for the outfit?"

"Of course he does, I'm a professional. But I need some details, Girl!"

"Oh. Well… He played Nine Inch Nails and… um, I won't be able to take that cycling class with you tomorrow like we'd planned."

Alice gasped. "You're kidding. Bella, you have a sex injury? Jasper, our little girl is growing up!"

"Oh my god, Jasper's there? Alice!" I was horrified.

I heard her giggling as Jasper took the phone from her and spoke to me in his comforting Texas drawl. "Don't ya worry Bella, I didn't hear a thang. I have no idea what y'all are talkin' 'bout." I knew he was lying, but appreciated the kindness.

"Right. Thanks Jazz," I replied, mortified, "I'm hanging up now."

A/N

For those of you who know what really happened with the fireworks in San Diego at the 2012 Big Bay Boom, I hope you'll forgive the inaccuracy. I wrote this a year ago, based on the 2011 show. For those of you who don't know, a computer glitch set off all of the fireworks on all the barges at once, for a very bright, very loud, very disappointing 30 second show. Check it out on YouTube: Big Bay Bust 2012. Poor little Riley would have been crying his eyes out.

Animal Style at In-N-Out Burger: A mustard-cooked beef patty with additional pickles, cheese, spread and grilled onions diced up and mixed together on the grill before getting dumped on your burger. This is probably the most famous secret menu item, and for good reason: it's pure awesome on a bun. (description from badmouth dot net slash in-n-outs-secret-menu)

Besotted … Thanks. Stay safe and dry.

Good luck to all of you in Isaac's path. You stay safe & dry, too…

Thanks for reading!

JEN

Twitter: JenEsmeFF


	17. Chapter 15, Esme: Hard Times

**The Fantasy Basket**

**By JenEsme**

**Inspired by Stephenie Meyers' Twilight series. No infringement intended.**

**Chapter 15—Esme: Hard Times**

**Posted 9/5/12**

April 1991

As much as I'd enjoyed working in the gallery, I was happy to return to my old routine when Laurent returned after a month. As Carmen and I opened our lockers at the gym after step class, I noticed that a number filled the display on my pager. Someone had tried to reach me. The number looked familiar but I couldn't quite place it. It wasn't Carlisle, or the gallery, or… I took a quick rinse in the shower, got dressed, and rushed to the pay phone in the lobby. When I heard the receptionist at the boys' school answer a wave of panic washed over me. Edward had gotten into a fight, she told me, and needed to be picked up. He was ok, but they wouldn't allow him back in class today.

I hurried to the school and ducked into the principal's office to get the story before collecting Edward. It had been another incident with Jacob Black.

"Mrs. Cullen, this is becoming a real problem. If it weren't so close to the end of the year, I'd recommend some sessions with the school psychologist to help Edward learn to manage his anger. I'm not certain he has the maturity level or self control to skip 2nd grade next fall as we'd planned. He could handle it academically, but socially, I just don't think he's ready."

I was furious. "Well, the problem doesn't seem to lie solely with Edward," I retorted. "The only problems I'm aware of have been between him and Jacob. He seems to get along fine with all the other kids, so I don't believe that he's socially immature. It seems to me that he's only reacting to one particular bully. I certainly hope that Jacob is receiving counseling for _his_ aggressive tendencies. He seems to be at least 50% of this problem, if not more. Perhaps the separation of the two boys by a grade would be a good thing, especially considering that 2nd and 3rd grade have recess on different playgrounds. Every incident between Jacob and Edward has occurred on the playground, so I would think that our plan to advance Edward to 3rd grade would be a solution to this problem, not something to be avoided. My immediate concern is for Edward's wellbeing the rest of this school year. Do you have a plan for keeping the boys separated or at least monitored more closely during recess to prevent any further incidents?"

The principal hemmed and hawed. _What a turkey_!

I knew that Edward was partly to blame for the fight, but there was no way I would allow the school administration, who seemed to have a problem controlling the boys on the playground, to hold him back academically because of a feud with one other kid. My sympathy for Jacob's situation only went so far. I'd jumped through hoops all over the school district to get Edward's promotion straight to 3rd grade approved, and no playground bully was going to take that away from him.

I stormed out of the principal's office, gathered Edward and his things, and stomped to the car, towing him by the hand. It was a test of my patience as he hopped on one foot all the way across the painted crosswalk, jumping only on the white stripes, not the black. On any other day I would have thought that was cute. Not today. I took a deep breath and tried not to explode.

"Edward," I admonished when we got into the car, "you can NOT fight any more! Remember how we talked about going into 3rd grade next year so you won't be so bored in class?"

"Yeah."

"You mean, 'yes?' Say it 10 times, please."

"Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes."

"Thank you. Do you _want_ to go into 3rd grade?"

"YES!"

"Well, Mr. Greene isn't going to let you do that next year if you continue to fight with Jacob, so COOL IT, do you hear me?"

"Yes ma'am." He started to sniffle and cry, but I knew it was mostly for show.

"Fighting is _not_ OK. It's a _bad_ choice. When you skip into third grade, there will be kids who pick on you because you're younger. You have to learn how to handle that like a big boy, without fighting. Just put your head down and do your work. Don't let them bother you. Make the right choices, ok?" He nodded, glumly.

"Now, unfortunately, you're going to have plenty of time to think about other choices you could make instead of fighting because there will be no TV, no videos, and no Nintendo until the school year ends in a week and a half. And you will not be going to the Mariner's game on Friday."

"But it's the sleepover!"

"I know that. It's a shame you didn't learn not to fight after the last time, because now you'll have to miss the sleepover at the stadium." At this, he burst out sobbing. The Mariners have a special night for scouts once a year where you watch a game and then spread your sleeping bags out on the field for a big campout. They play baseball movies on the jumbo-tron, let the kids run the bases, serve hotdogs and other ballpark fare for dinner and snacks, have some of the players come out and sign autographs, and all sorts of other fun stuff. Nobody gets any sleep, but it's a really fun experience for the boys. I felt bad about taking that away from Edward, but he has to learn that his actions have consequences.

I pulled into the garage, and he tried to slam the door of the minivan shut. When it wouldn't slam, he growled and stamped his foot, stormed off, and slammed the door that leads into the house. I gave him a few minutes to boil and then took a snack to him up in his room. I rubbed his back, read him a story, and the world was right again.

…

"Carlisle said it was really cool, Carmen. They took pictures of all the kids running the bases or doing batting practice and then displayed them up on the scoreboard, just like they do for the pros. Emmett got such a kick out of that. I wish Edward and I could have gone. Hey, will you hand me the tape, please?" We were at the school, covering all the shelves and walls in the library with black paper, transforming it into an art gallery to showcase the kids' work at Open House.

"I know it's so tough to discipline them, but it's good that you stuck to your guns, Esme. He'll enjoy it all the more next year. Plus, next year Santiago will be old enough to go, too, so Edward will have his buddy with him." I nodded and continued measuring, pinning, and taping. Every student in the school would have a piece of their art displayed at the annual end-of-year event the following Thursday. It's a lot of work for one night, but it's really beautiful, and the kids take so much pride in seeing their work displayed that it's well worth it. It saddened me that this would be the last year to see Emmett's artwork on the wall.

We worked awhile longer, and then I remembered, "Did I tell you I'm having coffee with Siobhan O'Leary tomorrow? I'll have to miss the gym, but she's going to introduce me to some other gallery owners that she works with."

"Who is she again?" Carmen wondered.

"Apparently, she's a really well-known interior designer. I met her at Laurent's when she brought some clients in to help them buy art for their home. She takes clients to all the galleries around Seattle—generates lots of business for them—so I'm hoping she'll be a really good person to network with."

"That sounds great, Esme. We'll miss you in class. Gosh, if you're really going back to work full time, I guess we'll have to get used to you not being there," she noted, sadly.

"I know. I'm so torn about things like that. On one hand, I really crave the feeling of accomplishment and self worth I get from working with grown-ups. That month at the gallery was great. But on the other hand, I hate to leave everything I have now—the kids, obviously, but there's also all of the volunteer work I do, and my friends, and the gym, and so many things. I guess I want it all!" I laughed.

"Don't we all? That's the big dilemma, isn't it?"

I nodded.

The following day I found myself having a similar conversation. "Siobhan, I know you're busy. Thank you so much for sharing a few minutes of your time with me."

"You're welcome, Esme. It was nice to hear from you. This is a great excuse to take a little break, and luckily, being my own boss, my time is pretty flexible."

We had the standard "mom" conversation about finding the perfect balance between work and family. She's divorced and her youngest is in high school, so she's been through many travails as a working mom. I told her about trying to get back into the gallery business and asked for any advice.

"Don't," she stated bluntly. My eyes widened and she laughed. "The hours are crazy with all those shows, and in general the people are… not all that family-friendly**.** I work with a lot of galleries and it's a vicious business. I've seen good people get crushed simply for not being young enough or thin enough or for wearing the wrong clothes. I'd just hate to see you get chewed up and spit out." Siobhan was always immaculately put together, she's sharp as a tack, and I knew she had an art degree, but she was on the heavy side and I wondered if she'd been burned by the gallery crowd earlier in her own career.

"I do remember it being pretty brutal. I got a taste of that from my 23 year old "boss" when I was temping last month," I scoffed. "But art is what I know. It's what I love. I don't know what else I could do without going back to school and starting over. And that's not an option."

"Well, as long as you know what you're getting yourself into. I'm not trying to discourage you. Hell, I would love to see you in one of the galleries. You're good. I like to work with good people. Just be careful." She pulled out her address book and started listing names and phone numbers. She's extremely well connected. "Oh, by the way, I was in Laurent's gallery last week with a client." She rolled her eyes. "What a brown noser. He was going on and on about how happy he was that I'd brought the Joneses in last month and how that gave the gallery its best month all year. Blah, blah, blah. Anyway, I thought to myself, 'Gee, Laurent, wasn't that the month that Esme was here instead of you?' Ha!" She snorted out a sarcastic laugh. "I put in a good word for you, of course."

"I appreciate that. You know, Tia's leaving for grad school in the fall and he hinted that I might be up for her job. But I don't want to put all my eggs in one basket, so thank you for this." I indicated the list of names she'd shared with me.

"Well, good luck with that. You would be a nice change from the string of Barbies Laurent's had in there the past few years. I swear I've never seen anyone over 30 working for that one. Not since he got divorced, anyway."

I cringed when I realized that I had left when I was 27. _Had I just been window dressing, too? Did he not take my talent seriously?_

We were getting ready to leave when I told Siobhan about Kate. She'd parted ways with her other decorator and I had been giving her a few pointers, but she really wanted to hire another professional—quickly—and get her house done. So, I asked Siobhan if she had room for another client.

…

That night, Carlisle called to tell me that he and Garrett were going out for a drink after work. He sounded really stressed.

"Are you all right, Sweetheart?" I was worried about him. An unscheduled outing usually meant something significant.

He blew out a breath. "It was a really rough day. We need to unwind for awhile. I don't want to come home and explode."

"I'm sorry to hear that. You do what you need to do, ok? I'll make a plate for you to eat later. I love you."

"Thanks, Es." He sounded so depressed. I wondered what could have happened. I finished up the dinner dishes and checked on the boys upstairs. They were playing a game together. _How nice_! I was just going to sit down and join them when the phone rang again. It was Carmen.

"Hey Es. Are we still on for date night Saturday?" We'd been trading babysitting for awhile now. It was a great way for me to get some time alone with Carlisle, and for her and Eleazar to do the same, without having to pay for childcare.

"Of course! What time do you want to bring the kids over?"

"Is 7:00 ok? I'll feed them dinner first," she added.

"Sure."

"Our movie doesn't start until after 8:00. Will that be too late?"

"No, that's fine. Take as much time as you want. You could even let the kids sleep over if you want to. Enjoy a night to yourselves," I offered.

"Yeah, I know what you're getting at Esme! What was the fantasy for this week? Maybe we'll play along."

I giggled and glanced around, making sure the kids were out of earshot. "The college boy and the lady professor. It was a fun one." I felt my face heat up at the memory.

"Ha! I'll talk to Eleazar. Don't you have church early on Sunday, or is Betty still being stubborn?"

"No. No apology from her yet. Poor Carlisle," I sighed. "He's so lost without his Sundays at Trinity. But he's sticking by me. He won't give in. It's so sweet. The substitute church we've been going to doesn't start their service until 10:00, so if you want to leave the kids overnight, it's fine."

"Thanks. I'll let you know. Oh, did I tell you about Irina?"

"No, is she ok?"

The line was quiet for a moment. "Her mom died, Es."

I gasped.

"Irina was a wreck in class today. She's leaving tomorrow for Ohio, and she won't be back for at least a week."

"Oh dear. How's her sister?"

"She's fine. The chemo worked on her. But apparently, they discovered her mom's cancer too late. She was too far gone already."

"Oh, poor Irina. Do you have an address to send flowers to?"

"Yeah, I'll... " I heard a crash in the background and then a baby started crying. Oh, gotta go rescue Gianna. I'll call you with it later."

I hung up and had to blow my nose. As I leaned my head in my hands, grieving for my friend, Carlisle arrived, looking even more dejected than I was. I rushed to the doorway and pulled him into my arms. He held me tightly around the waist and buried his face in my shoulder for at least a minute or two. Something was definitely wrong. I ran my fingers through his hair and rubbed his neck, rocking gently and whispering, "It's ok… Everything will be all right." He took a deep breath and backed away slightly, his head hung low. I cupped his face in my hands and lifted it up so I could look into his sad eyes. Just as I started to speak, the boys came tearing down the stairs, clomping their feet loudly and laughing as they raced to win Daddy's first hug. I held Carlisle's hand as I turned around, blocking him from the kids. "Boys, shhhhhh," I stated quietly, trying to settle them down. "Be gentle, ok? Daddy had a hard day."

The kids stopped short on the bottom few stairs, Edward running into Emmett's back. Carlisle pulled them both into his arms with a gasp, embracing them as if he never wanted to let go. He kissed each boy on the top of his head and said roughly, "Hey, you guys. How was your day?" He composed himself as they chattered about Spirit Week that was going on this last week of school. I heated his dinner and tucked the boys in to bed as he ate.

As we lay side by side before going to sleep, my husband revealed what was troubling him. It had been an unusually busy day and he'd lost three patients, one of them a child who had been hit by a car as he crossed the street. Carlisle was extremely frustrated because in the child's case, he knew exactly what needed to be done to save his patient but the limitations of the equipment and the approved procedures prevented him from doing so. "It's just like with Janine Black last year. I can see it, I can feel it, but… aargh!" He moved his hands in front of him, mimicking what needed to be done, balling them into fists when he couldn't fix the problem he visualized. "The boy was nine years old. He was brought to my O.R. because some idiot didn't bother to check the crosswalk before turning right on a red. And I couldn't save him because I couldn't get… there." He simulated the procedure again with tense hands.

I wasn't raised to be very religious. Granny and I went to church on Christmas and Easter, that was it. But Carlisle had grown up in the church. Until a few weeks ago, he'd spent every Sunday helping his father run two services, he'd heard every sermon twice, he knew every verse and every chapter of the Bible. I knew he was feeling lost since the showdown with his folks a few weeks ago and I knew it contributed to the frustration and pain he was feeling about his patients today, so I took his hand in both of mine, held it to my heart, and spoke in his language: I said a prayer. With the double loss of Carlisle's patients and my friend's mother that day, it felt like the right thing to do. I asked for blessings on those who had died and asked that their deaths do some good by helping Carlisle find a way to solve the problem that had prevented him from saving them. I asked for Carlisle to stop blaming himself and to find peace. My words weren't eloquent but they were heartfelt. They were enough. My husband thanked me, kissed me, and was able to drift off to sleep, holding me.

The following day, I called my father-in-law. He's _my_ preacher, too, and I needed some guidance. We talked for a long time about the situation with Betty, but we both knew that nothing could be solved without going straight to the source. So, I invited them to dinner on Friday—both of them. I hoped that the four of us could sit and talk after the kids went to bed, but when we answered the door Ed was the only one there. "She said she doesn't feel well," he explained, his face heavy with regret and resignation. I felt sorry that he had been placed in the middle, forced to choose between his son and his wife. But then I realized that Carlisle had been stuck in the same position—having to choose between his mother and his wife—for years until he decided to put his foot down. _What a mess_. I squeezed Carlisle's hand as the boys pulled their grandfather into an excited conversation about their last day of school. We had a nice dinner with Ed, though there was an underlying sadness in both father and son. I got up to work on the dishes and ducked around the corner with the phone. I hesitated before dialing, but I knew it had to be done. The machine answered, of course.

I took a deep breath before the beep. "You're hurting your son… and your husband… so much. Carlisle's a mess and Ed is torn between the two of you. I don't know what I did to… offend you." I knew that was the wrong word, but what word could possibly describe our relationship? "But it's festered for way too long. Please tell me, talk to me, so we can get past this once and for all. Do it for them, not for me. They don't deserve this." After a second or two of silence on the recording, I concluded, "I hope you feel better," and hung up. I hope that didn't come across as being too sarcastic. Heaven forbid I upset Queen Betty even more.

I reentered the kitchen just as Carlisle was putting glasses from their drinks in the dishwasher. He looked at the cordless phone in my hand and then up at my face, quizzically. I shook my head and shot a tiny smile in his direction, letting him know that it was nothing to worry about. After finishing the dishes, I approached the men, deep in philosophical conversation, with a tray of coffee.

"… but why would He do that, Dad? Why would He give me a glimpse of what could be done but make it impossible to carry out? It keeps happening. People keep dying. It's torturing me."

"I believe that's called inspiration, Son."

I set the tray down quietly, gave my husband's shoulder a squeeze, and left them to their discussion.

The weekend passed without a word from my mother-in-law. While I was busy with kids' activities and housework, Carlisle dove into research. He'd requested a literature search at the med. school library and pored through the resulting stack of medical journals, seeking any developments that may be related to the procedure he could visualize.

"There's a researcher at UCSD working on something interesting. He'll be at the conference I'm going to next month. Maybe we could collaborate on something. Who knows?"

"Mmmm… That's good. It's a start, huh?" I couldn't say much from my state of total relaxation. True to his word, Carlisle was giving me my weekly Sunday night massage. Beneath his strong, soothing hands I could feel the tension that had tied my back and shoulders into knots during the past week—tension from our strained family relations, stress over work and careers, worry about Edward's problems at school, and, admittedly, a little dread of the boys' looming summer vacation—simply melt away. I felt so much better that I urged Carlisle to trade places with me so that I could relieve his strain as well.

I poured some of the warm oil from the massage candle I'd bought for Carlisle's birthday into my palm, rubbed my hands together, and smoothed them down his spine, pressing my thumbs alongside his backbone and my fingers into the tight muscles of his back all the way to his tailbone, where I sat, straddling him. After working my way back up I kneaded his neck and shoulders, concentrating on a knotted muscle and making him groan until I had soothed it away. His breathing became slow and deep, his voice uninhibited each time I eased away a ball of tension, his moans and grunts an audio accompaniment to his physical relaxation. Even his most ticklish spots elicited no more than a smile or a hum, he was so subdued. I knew how blissful he felt, because he'd brought me the same feeling moments earlier.

I slung one leg off and rolled him to his back, squeezing his shoulders and running my thumbs along his clavicle as I seated myself on his hips. His eyes blinked open as he realized I was nude, as he was. His eyes widened when they took in my bare chest and I felt him twitch against my backside. I leaned forward, nudged his eyelids shut with my fingertips, and combed my hands through his hair, massaging his scalp. "Shhhhh." I breathed into his ear. "Relax, Sweetheart."

I brushed three or four kisses down his jaw and ran my hands a final time through his hair before smoothing them around the sides of his neck, over his broad shoulders, and down his chest. I massaged his pecs and traced each of his ribs as I lifted my hips and seated myself lower, on his thighs. My hands massaged his sides, his stomach, his waist, and moved to press into his hips, avoiding the now-hardened mass that stood prominently between them. I moved to his strong runner's thighs, using both hands to knead the large muscles in one and then the other. I ran my fingers up and down his legs, hip to ankle, and sat below him, placing his feet in my lap so that I could press my thumbs into the soles of them, prompting more satisfied groans. I gave his feet a lot of attention before crawling up the bed to whisper in his ear, "How was that?"

"Mmmmm…." He smiled and pulled me into his arms, keeping his eyes closed. "Thank you."

"I seem to have missed a spot," I murmured, whispering my fingers along his penis, causing it to twitch and his breath to catch in his throat.

He rolled over, pinning me underneath him and stroked his fingers between my legs as he nuzzled my neck. "Well, we can't have that, now, can we?" After ensuring that I was ready, he aligned himself above me and slowly pressed inside.

"Ohhhhhh." I let out a breathy moan as our bodies joined. It felt so right—like the natural and obvious progression to the deep relaxation brought upon by our massages. He held me closely as we rocked, making love slowly, gently, tenderly, like waves rolling to the shore, never knowing exactly how far the foam will reach. I felt heady, almost dizzy, as our bodies undulated, my eyes never opening more than halfway. We moved in perfect sync. Even our breathing aligned.

After a deliciously long dance which felt at the same time not nearly long enough, Carlisle shifted his hips up ever so slightly so that he stroked my clitoris with each rhythmic thrust, maintaining our slow, languid pace but increasing my sensation a hundredfold. My breath shuddered. My knees widened, opening me up even more to the overwhelming feeling of a thousand tingling nerves concentrated in one precise point. My arms and legs quivered, my neck and shoulders tensed just for a moment before calming, melting into the bed, all feeling giving way to the shiver building between my legs. It grew, bit by torturously slow bit as my fingers dug into my husband's back, warning him how close I was. In the past, he may have shifted, sped up, or added his fingers to try to help me along, but after so many years together—especially this last one—he knew that would slow things down. He knew not to change a single thing unless I directed him to. Just a few more slow, careful rocks caused my cup to finally fill to the brim, overflowing with liquid warmth that spilled from its tiny source and quickly spread outward to every extremity. The sound I made as it engulfed me was half whimper, half laugh, my body not knowing whether to rejoice or to cry.

I regained my senses and opened my eyes, breathing heavily and peering into Carlisle's face as we continued to rock. He was close. His jaw was clenched, his eyebrows knit squeezing a line into the bridge of his nose. Years of loving this man had taught me what he needed, too, so I sped up. I bent my knees so that I could press my pelvis harder against him, meeting each of his downward thrusts. I slid my hands to his backside, pulling him inside me harder, deeper, faster. In no time, his body tensed, his hips jerked into me, one, two, three times with a long, guttural moan. Then once more before he relaxed completely, letting out a long, relieved breath. He lowered his body around me, pulling me close with his arms and legs as his forehead touched mine. I felt loved and cherished, cocooned in his strength and warmth as he brushed soft kisses all over my face.

"Thank you," I murmured, feeling grateful for so much more than the physical manifestation of his love. A tear spilled from my eye, rolling toward my ear where it hit Carlisle's cheek. He lifted his head and looked at me, confused. I shook my head to reassure him—these were happy tears. I gazed into his eyes and lay my hand along the side of his face. "I love you so."

He smiled and kissed me slowly on the lips. "I love you, too. You're my everything. My one and only." I shivered, whether from his words or from our cooling sweat, I wasn't sure. He reached down and grabbed the covers, pulling them over us, enveloping us as we curled into each other, connected—body and soul.

He awoke me Monday morning with a kiss and a squeeze. "Welcome to summer vacation," he grinned. "Have fun!" I groaned. So much for the relaxation I'd enjoyed the night before!

I always used to wonder, when my boys were toddlers, how people with school aged kids could dread summer vacation so much. I loved spending time with my boys, going to the park, reading to them, finger painting or playing with play-doh. And then they got older. Play-doh didn't cut it anymore. They needed to be entertained, full time, or else they would be sucked into the mind-numbing, addictive world of Nintendo. I could feel the IQ points being sucked out of their little brains as I saw their glassy eyes staring at the screen, their fingers twitching at the controls. I limited their time with the Mario Brothers, but that led to loud, aggressive fighting between the Cullen brothers. My solution was to keep them busy. First stop, Science Camp. We swung by a neighbor's house to pick up her two boys, who were attending the day camp as well. As the three older boys chattered in the back of the van about the last day of school and their plans for the summer, Edward asked me, "Mama, why are you all dressed up? Do you have to work at the gallery again? Are we going to Austin's house after science camp until you come home?"

"No, Eddie-Bear, I just have a meeting with someone today. I should be back before you're through. Austin's mom will pick you up from science camp and I'll be home when you get there, ok?" I worried again about how hard it would be on the kids when I found a job. I did have a few meetings lined up in the next couple of weeks with gallery owners that Siobhan introduced me to, but today was something different. Today _I_ would be making the introduction—Siobhan to Kate—and joining them on their walk-through of Kate's house. Since I'd helped my friend get started with a few decorating projects, she asked me to be there to explain what we'd done and planned so far, hopefully providing some continuity so that Siobhan could finish her house quickly. The three of us got along great.

Siobhan was amazing. She has a knack for reading people, honing in on their personalities, and translating that into ideas for their living space. She clued in to many things about Kate that I knew only after years of friendship. As we toured Kate's house, she answered Siobhan's questions, some of which seemed completely unrelated to decorating and also pointed out what the two of us had done together so far. Siobhan nodded, raised her eyebrows a few times, and made copious notes. She took photos and measurements and continued probing Kate about her preferences and lifestyle. She was very hard to read, and I got a little nervous about what she thought of the suggestions I'd shared with Kate, hoping that she wouldn't think they were awful. When we left Kate's, Siobhan asked if we could get some lunch or a cup of coffee. I told her that I needed to get home before the boys were dropped off by the carpool, and invited her to share a large salad I already had in my fridge.

"Even better," she sparkled. "I'd love to see what you've done with your own place."

She followed me home, and I led her on a quick tour before settling in the kitchen while I tossed our salad and made some quick sandwiches and fruit for the boys to eat when they got home. I got the same, unreadable nods and eyebrows throughout my home as I had at Kate's. That is, until I took her out to my Parisian patio to eat lunch al fresco. She smiled widely and shook her head back and forth. _Argh!_ I couldn't tell if she loved it or if she was mocking me for being overly predictable and cliché.

"Did you do the tromp l'oeil yourself?" she asked.

"Yes. It took me awhile, but… "

"Wow! Esme, you're…" She huffed out a short laugh. "You've got a real gift."

"Oh, you like it?" I was thrilled. And proud.

"I like everything I've seen today. And I was wondering if…"

The front door slammed shut and the noise that always surrounds two little boys invaded our conversation.

"Would you excuse me just a minute?" She nodded, of course.

I greeted my sons in the front hallway, waved thanks to the neighbor who brought them home, and led them to the kitchen for lunch as they told me excitedly about all that they had done. Emmett's age group was learning about space and planning a simulated shuttle launch. The younger boys in Edward's group learned all about bugs. It sounds like they had lots of fun, and I hated to cut their enthusiasm short, but I told them I had a guest waiting. They washed their hands and sat down to eat the sandwiches I'd left on the kitchen table, talking to each other about their respective classes, each trying to prove that his class was better than his brother's.

"I'll be right out here on the patio if you need me, boys."

I returned to Siobhan and found her finishing up a conversation with a vendor on her mobile phone. I cleared away our empty salad dishes while she finished, pushing the antenna down and returning the brick-sized phone to her bag_. Impressive. Not many people have those._ I apologized for the boys' interruption and she waved it off.

"I hope I'm not keeping you from your work."

"No, no. My work follows me wherever I go," she laughed, making a final note before closing her day planner and placing it in her bag. "I don't have to be anywhere until three-thirty, when MY son gets home." I smiled, happy to see the family side of her peek out from behind the professionalism I'd always witnessed so far.

"So what do you think of Kate's? I know she'd love to have you take her on as a client. She was really impressed with the pictures in your portfolio."

"That's what I wanted to talk to you about, Esme." She leaned forward against the small café table and looked into my eyes. "My plate is pretty full. Lately, I'm telling most new clients that I have a waiting list of a couple of months before I can even start. Three to six for a large remodel job like Kate's." My heart sunk. "But…" She took a deep breath and leaned back in her seat. "I would be happy to take her on immediately _if_ you would come to work for me as my assistant on her project." She looked me in the eye, dead serious.

I was shocked. "What?" Although I enjoyed decorating, I honestly hadn't given much thought to working in that field. I had discounted it, thinking that it would require a lot of schooling, and concerned that it wouldn't provide stable work in the sagging economy for someone just getting started.

"Just think about it Esme. You've got talent. Between your art background and what I've seen today at your friend's house and here at your own home, which is absolutely gorgeous, I can tell you have an eye for design. The way you worked with me and the Joneses at the gallery shows that you can read people, understand their needs, sell. I'm a pushy broad—not the easiest to please—but you held your own and you had the guts to call and ask for my help afterwards. I know you're looking for something fulfilling yet flexible enough to take care of your family and to be honest, I don't think you'll find that too easily in the gallery world. You have a lot to learn about the technical side of interior design, but you're smart. I think you'd catch on pretty quickly. So, if you'd like to give it a try, I'd be willing to bet on you. Join me just for this one project—Kate's house. We'll see how it goes, part time, and if we still like each other afterwards, we can talk about making it more permanent. What do you say?"

My mouth dropped open. She chortled out a hearty laugh at my dumbfounded response.

"I don't know what to say, Siobhan. I'm shocked. I'm honored. Thank you. Um…"

"You'll need to discuss it with your family, of course. Tell you what, I promised Kate that I'd get back to her by the end of Friday with a plan, so why don't you give me a call sometime on Wednesday? That way, we can get together on Thursday to pool our ideas and have something to present to Kate on Friday."

"Uh… Ok! Wednesday." I nodded. "That sounds great. Thank you again. I…" I was still speechless. I covered my face and laughed, embarrassed at my unprofessional reaction.

Siobhan stood to leave and patted me on the shoulder. "You're worth it, Hon. Start believing it."

As I closed the door behind her after thanking her profusely, I squealed and jumped up and down. The boys ran to me, "Mom, are you ok?"

"I'm more than ok, guys, I'm GREAT! Mommy just got a job!" They didn't look too happy about my news. "This is much better than the last one. I'll be able to work while you're at school or camp, but I'll be home most of the time when you need me."

Carlisle was surprised when I told him my news that night. He was happy for me, but, always the pragmatist, he brought up several issues that needed clarifying—hours, wages, and such—and insisted that I get the agreement in writing. The next morning, I also kept an appointment I'd made with one of the gallery owners Siobhan had put me in touch with. The gallery was nice but the owner was kind of a snob, sniffing at the 10 year hole in my resume despite the successful month I'd worked at Laurent's recently. He asked several questions that hinted at ageism or a lack of dedication due to "personal commitments." I smiled and answered confidently, but knew that this was not a person I'd like to work for. It solidified my decision to accept Siobhan's offer, so I drove straight home and called her.

A/N

There really is a night at the ballpark for Scouts. (The Padres in San Diego have one, anyway.) I embellished mine a bit for the story, but the real one is still fun, fun!

Welcome and thank you to all my new readers and reviewers. The day I posted the last chapter received a record (for me) number of views. Thanks to everyone for telling your friends about The Fantasy Basket. This chapter is the ¾ mark, and I'm thrilled that it's audience still growing.

Besotted … I'll always need you, even if it's just for paragraph breaks. Much love and many thanks.

Thanks for reading!

JEN

Twitter: JenEsmeFF


	18. Chapter 16, Bella: The Birthday

**The Fantasy Basket**

**By JenEsme**

**Inspired by Stephenie Meyers' Twilight series. No infringement intended.**

**Chapter 16—Bella: The Birthday**

**Posted 9/12/12**

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**The Fantasy Basket has been nominated for an EMERGING SWAN AWARD:**

_**The Emerging Swan Awards' mission is to bring recognition and acclaim to  
all those little stories that could. The ones you fall in love with and can't  
figure out why people haven't discovered them yet. We're hoping to bring them  
the kind of attention and love you think they deserve.**_

_**PLEASE VOTE FOR THE FANTASY BASKET. VOTING CLOSES 9/21.**_

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**THANK YOU TO WHOMEVER NOMINATED THE FANTASY BASKET. I'm thrilled!**

**Thanks,**

**JEN**

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September 2012

"Is it all coming back to you?" Edward brought me a cup of tea and sat on the couch next to me as I pored over the textbook from the Bradley natural childbirth class we'd taken while pregnant with Riley. I'd kept it to review whenever we—ok, whenever _I_—decide to have another child, and it was handy now as I prepared to help Angela.

"It is. It's funny how I've forgotten so much. All the details of having Riley have kind of blurred in my memory. I thought I'd never forget those things."

"You'll do great. I talked to Ben today. He's really relieved that you'll be there. Besides, if women remembered everything, nobody'd want to have more than one kid, right?"

I looked at him, annoyed, and rolled my eyes, "Do you have to bring that up? I don't want to argue about that _again_. Not right now."

"What? I wasn't trying to…" I glared at him. He sighed, defeated, and ran his fingers through his hair. "Fine." He stood and left the room.

"Edward?" I called after him, realizing that he hadn't brought it up, I had. "Don't…"

He lifted a hand to wave me off, "It's ok. I'll let you study."

"Clarkie, I'm sor-" the door to his den closed abruptly and I felt bad for bringing up our tired argument about a second baby. I don't think he'd meant it about me—not consciously, anyway. I tried to make it up to him with a back rub as we were going to sleep, but the damage had been done. Our interaction the rest of the night was tense and stilted.

The next weekend, the three of us were headed to the Yee's house to watch the twins. We'd been swapping babysitting for date nights with them for the past couple of months, and it was going great.

"Go pl-ay, Mama!" Riley begged from his car seat as we passed a McDonald's with a play structure.

"We're going to go play with the twins at their house, Buddy. That sounds fun, right?"

"Josshie?"

"Yes, Joshua and Isaac." He smiled and looked out the window as I turned back to face forward.

"Why are we going over so early this time? Ange didn't mention it," I wondered. It was only 11 am. We usually plan the dates for evenings.

"Ben planned a special surprise. He called me the other day."

"Hmm. I wonder where he's taking her?"

Edward shrugged.

As it turned out, the surprise was on both of us. When we got to their house, Edward handed me the car keys and, after pulling her up from the large exercise ball she sat on, Ben handed Angela a gift card for a nearby day spa. "You're scheduled for massages at noon and pedicures at two. I found a place that does pregnancy massages and has a special table for you, mama, so get going, don't be late! Edward and I are going to spend some daddy time with the boys."

I threw Edward a questioning look. He just winked and smiled.

Ben explained that this may be the last chance for a moms' day out for awhile. Angela gasped, "Is this because I complained about not being able to see my toes the other day?"

He smiled and kissed her.

"It's because you're wonderful and you deserve it."

I hugged Edward goodbye. "You knew about this all along, didn't you?"

He raised his eyebrows and shrugged before wrapping his arms around me with one of his heart-melting smiles. "You're wonderful and you deserve it, too."

I felt a twinge of guilt as I cupped his face in my hands and kissed him tenderly. "Thank you." I hoped he could see the apology in my eyes for being a jerk the other day.

He put his forehead against mine and gazed into my eyes, "Go. Have fun."

"I love you," I whispered, relishing the newfound affection he seemed to have for me.

He pecked me on the lips and patted me on the hip.

"Noggin!" Riley shouted, mimicking the turtles who bumped foreheads in _Finding Nemo_.

I leaned down to pick him up. "Oh, I'll noggin you, Buddy!" I tapped my forehead to his as he giggled with delight. "And I'll eskimo kiss," I rubbed noses with him. "And I'll give you good-bye kisses," I kissed him on each rosy cheek. "And I'll…" I took a deep breath, lifted his shirt, leaned down, and blew a big loud raspberry on his round baby belly, making him laugh hysterically before handing him, squirming, to my husband. "I love you, Baby. Be good for Daddy, ok?"

"He's all yours," I grinned with one last kiss for Edward as Riley proclaimed, "I'm not baby. I'm a big boy!"

Edwardshook his head and snickered, "Get outta here before I change my mind."

Angela and I looked at each other and squealed as soon as the door closed behind us.

"Freedom!"

"Whoo hoo!"

We had a fantastic time at the spa, relaxing and talking about anything and everything while we enjoyed being pampered.

"Ahhh, that massage felt so good," she sighed as we sat down for lunch. "I've been feeling so uncomfortable lately."

"Well, at 38 weeks, I don't think it's possible to feel comfortable, you poor thing."

"I am so ready to get this kid out of me!" she laughed.

"Are you scared?" I wondered.

"No, I'll have my super-awesome birth coach there to help me." She grinned at me.

I chuckled. "I hope I can help a little. What I meant, though, was, are you ready to have three kids under the age of three? That would scare me to death! I can't even imagine having a second one at this point."

"I know it's going to be a lot of hard work, but I'm really excited. I just can't wait to hold her in my arms."

"Maybe I'm just not very maternal," I pondered. "I mean, I love Riley more than anything, but the thought of going through it all again just…" I shook my head to clear the negative thoughts, then smiled and said, "We'll just have to keep up our babysitting swaps so I can practice taking care of a baby along with the boys."

Angela reached over the table and grabbed my hand, not an easy feat with her big belly in the way. "Bella, you're a great mom. And whether you have one or two or ten kids, you'll have enough love for all of them. Don't be so hard on yourself."

"I just feel like I'm defective or something, like I don't have enough to give more than one person. Things got so hard with Edward after we had Riley, I just can't imagine adding another one, like he wants."

"I'm the one who got pregnant again before my twins were even two years old, and you think something's wrong with _you_?"

I snickered.

"Seriously, though. You guys are doing fine now, right?" She looked concerned.

"It's better. We still have our moments," I rolled my eyes, "but yeah, things are good. I just don't want to risk going back to the way we were."

Angela thought for a moment, choosing her words carefully. "At my baby shower for the twins, my great aunt had some interesting advice. She said that as you add more and more plates to your table, be sure to serve you and your husband first. 'Children will eat you out of house and home if you let them,' she said, 'so serve yourselves first.' That's really helped Ben and me stay strong amid the twins' chaos."

It also sounded remarkably similar to something Esme had said. _Hmm_…

"Now, let's go get our pedicures. I haven't been able to see my feet for a month, and I want something nice to look at once this obstruction is out of the way!"

We returned to Angela's house, happy and relaxed. The guys looked a little shell shocked. I was surprised when Ben tossed Edward his keys. "See you tomorrow, man. Lock up when you go. Have fun with the boys!"

Ben smirked, grabbed an overnight bag that sat next to the door, and led Angela, waddling, right back out to the car before the twins had a chance to spot her. She waved a quick goodbye to me and looked thoroughly confused. I shrugged my shoulders at her, equally perplexed.

Edward leaned in close to me. "We're giving them their date night after all."

"Where's he taking her?"

"To dinner and then a hotel for the night."

"Huh?" I turned to face him, surprised.

"Well, Ben said they've been trying to get together one last time before the baby comes—they think it may help kick her into labor—but he said the twins have been really clingy lately and one or the other of them keeps climbing into bed with them at night, so they can't get any time alone to…" he nodded and widened his eyes.

I chuckled and felt my face flush. "So, we're watching the boys overnight?"

Edward nodded. "Ben already said goodbye to them. He asked me to give them a head start so the kids don't see Angela. Otherwise, it would be an hour before they'd get out of here."

"Anxious, is he?" I teased.

Edward grinned.

"Well, they'll have a good night. That was really thoughtful of you." Throughout our conversation, I watched as the three little boys who were bouncing on the couch next to Edward took turns climbing up onto his shoulders and diving down his chest head-first into his lap. He caught them and flipped them over onto their feet in front of him, to their delighted squeals and giggles.

As Isaac started his third turn, I wondered, "So, Do you think we can handle these three little monkeys all night?" He looked at me, grinning as he placed Isaac's feet on the floor and gave him a tickle before releasing him. "I guess we'll find out." He turned his attention to the boys, "One more flip for each of you and then let's go get in the cars."

Poor Edward spent the day Sunday recuperating from his antics with the three rambunctious two-year-olds. He'd had a blast playing with them, but was exhausted. I was cleaning up from dinner when the phone rang. "What's up, Ange?"

"Hi Bella. Thank you so much for watching the kids last night. Yesterday was just wonderful—the whole day—the spa with you and then the date night with Ben. It was great."

"Well, I think we need to thank the guys. They were the masterminds behind the…"

"Hold on…" Angela must have set the phone down because I heard a muffled gasp and then a few deep, deep breaths.

"Ok, I'm back. Sorry about that. Anyway, I was just going to say how glad I was that we had our fun day yesterday, because I don't think…"

"Angela?" I gasped, "Are you ok?"

She laughed, "Yeah, I'm great."

"Was that what I think it was?!" I started bouncing up and down and Edward looked up from the book he was reading to Riley in the next room as though I were crazy person.

I blocked the mouthpiece and whispered, "She's in labor!"

He smiled.

"I think so, yeah. How do you tell the difference between Braxton-Hicks and the real contractions, though? The twins were a scheduled c-section, so I never went into labor with them. Bella, I have no idea what I'm doing." Angela is pretty unflappable, but I could hear a hint of panic creeping into her voice as she spoke.

"Well, Sweetie, if you couldn't talk to me through that last one, they're probably for real. Congratulations. You're going to have a baby soon!"

"Wait—I changed my mind," she joked. I laughed with my friend, trying to keep her calm, and we chatted for a few minutes until another contraction hit.

"How far apart are they?"

She checked with Ben, who was keeping track on his phone. There's an app for everything. "That was about eight minutes."

"Any other signs?"

"No. No mucus, no bloody show, no water. Just these annoying gut-wrenching spasms that interrupted my dinner." I was glad to hear her wry sense of humor was still intact. I knew there were some nerves behind it, though.

"You're going to do great, Ange. You've got plenty of time before you need to go to the hospital. Why don't you have Ben put the boys to bed so you can take a shower. Then try to get some sleep."

"I don't think I could sleep tonight. I'm too edgy. And then there are, you know, the gut-wrenching spasms…"

I chuckled, "Well, just give it a try, ok? If you can't sleep, then sit down and relax for awhile. Watch a movie or read a book or something. Ben can take care of the boys and get everything ready to go. Your only job is to relax and breathe deeply through the contractions, ok?"

She took a deep breath and huffed it out, nervously. "Ok."

"Ange?"

"Yeah?"

"You can do this. No problem. Just relax tonight and get some rest, ok? Take deep, abdominal breaths through the gut-wrenching spasms, just like in yoga class. You'll be fine. See you soon." I asked her to hand the phone to Ben. He was a little jittery and excited, and I helped him calm down so he wouldn't get Angela all worked up. I reminded Ben of what to look for and how to help Angela. He'd learned it all in their Bradley childbirth class, but had forgotten some things in his nervous excitement. He promised to eat something, get some rest, and keep me posted on her progress.

When my phone rang, waking me hours later, the display read 2:42 am. "Time to go?" I answered.

"They're two minutes apart and getting pretty intense," Ben answered. He said they'd be on their way as soon as the babysitter arrived. I met them at the hospital entrance and we walked her in together. We shared Angela's birth plan with the nurses, who were supportive but somewhat dubious as they agreed to not tether Ange to the bed with IVs and fetal monitors. They took a baseline reading, found that she was dilated to 6 cm and almost completely effaced and then let her move around the birthing suite, as she wished. Ben and I assisted over the next few hours as she sat on her exercise ball, walked down the hall and back, squatted with knees spread wide to open her pelvis, crouched on all fours to relieve pressure on her back, floated in a warm bath, and all manner of other labor positions (except laying on her back in bed). We did what we could to help her relax and breathe deeply with each contraction. It was so helpful to have both of us there so we could take turns helping her and give each other breaks.

_I definitely want two coaches the next time I have a baby. Wait… did I just think that?_

Ben and I each had different techniques that worked for Angela. He would lace his fingers through hers, stare deeply into her eyes, and breathe together with his wife as her body wrenched itself open. I turned my eyes away from their private moment and fondly recalled Edward's deep, melodic voice guiding me through Riley's birth with the exact words of encouragement and support I needed. I couldn't have done it drug-free without him, and I was proud to be helping my friend that way now. I noticed the time and realized that Edward would be feeding Riley his breakfast and dropping him off at the Yee's house about now to spend the day with the twins and their babysitter while he went to work at another hospital. I missed him.

I broke from my reverie when Ange commanded me to "do the relax thing." My method of assistance came straight from the yoga class we'd been taking together at the gym—guided relaxation. Angela stood next to the bed, hands on the side rail, as I stood next to her. "Breathe in calm and light and happiness that your new baby is almost here. Breathe out pain and tension and worry. Now, relax your toes. Relax the arches of your feet. Relax your ankles. Relax your calves…" and so on all the way up her body to her neck and facial muscles. I felt like a new-agey weirdo, but it was working for her. In fact, these techniques had been working great all night until Angela suddenly needed to rush to the bathroom. After throwing up, her contractions intensified. She was in transition—when the body opens up the agonizing last couple of centimeters before being ready to push the baby out. Nothing Ben and I had been doing for the last several hours seemed to work for her anymore.

"I can't do this," she lamented. At one point she looked me straight in the eye and said, very matter-of-fact and serious, "This. Hurts."

"I know, Sweetie, but you can do it. This is the hardest part. It's almost over." I made up a story of a little old grandma, not even five feet tall and teeny tiny, who lived on a farm and had eight children, all born at home. I reminded her that if sweet little tiny granny Marie could do it eight times, then surely 5-foot 7-inch Angela, whom Dr. Gerandy said had "good child bearing hips" could do it, too. That did the trick. It took her fear away and helped her relax and through the last few painful contractions. Her new nurse who had come on with the day shift, declared her to be at 10 cm and ready to push.

Angela was suddenly very calm and coherent. "No, I'm not ready yet," she insisted. The nurse flew into a tizzy, claiming that Angela had to push now, or it would be bad for the baby. I hurried the idiot nurse out to the hall with a copy of the birth plan while Ben tended to Angela, who was calmly sitting in bed, waiting until she felt like pushing. As I tried to give the nurse a crash course in natural childbirth, thankfully, Dr. Gerandy approached, ready to catch the baby. He set the nurse straight and when we re-entered the birthing suite, Angela was feeling the undeniable urge to push.

"I'm glad you're here. I can't hold this back." She glared at the nurse who didn't want to give her 15 minutes to rest after 10 hours of labor. Ben and I each held an arm to hold her steady as she squatted on the foot of the bed, pushing through 7 or 8 contractions to deliver the baby's head. "Man, I'm glad that's out of there," Angela joked. With one more contraction, she pushed her baby's slippery body out. The proud daddy cut the umbilical cord and brought her to his wife, who cried tears of joy as she watched her daughter drink from her breast. Dr. Gerandy delivered the placenta, checked Angela's incision site from the twins' c-section, and gave her just two stitches for a small tear. I left the room to call Edward after taking a few photos of the proud new parents.

To my disappointment, I got his voice mail. His curt, eight word message "This is Edward Cullen. Please leave a message," did not sate the intense desire I felt to talk to him, to hear his voice. I was on an emotional high (fueled in part, no doubt, by lack of sleep) and I needed him.

With a disappointed sigh, I left a message. "Hi, Clarkie. Well, the baby's here. She was born about 15 minutes ago. They haven't named her yet, but…" I smiled, gave him the stats, and took a deep breath, trying to contain my amazement. "Wow, Edward. Just… wow. It was… I really can't describe it." I stuttered, unable to find words to express the emotions I felt. "I mean, everything went perfectly. They're both doing great. Apgars were at 9. No trouble with Angela's scar or anything. But to be a part of that was so… so wonderful and moving." I sighed again. "I wish you were here. I want to share these feelings with you while they're so fresh. I guess we can talk about it tonight, though. I love you. So much."

An hour later, Angela was getting settled in her new room and we heard a quiet knock. I looked up from the tiny person I held in my arms to see Edward, leaning against the doorway in his teal-green scrubs, watching me. As I caught his gaze and smiled at him, his loving, longing look was replaced with a quick flash of what could have been guilt or disappointment as his eyes darted down to the flowers he held and then refocused with a warm smile on the tired but happy couple.

"Hey guys, congratulations!" He kissed Angela on the cheek and placed the vase on her bedside table before man-hugging Ben with a firm pat on the back. "I brought lunch." Ben greedily took the sack of sandwiches from him as I approached.

"Edward, meet Rachel Elizabeth." He stood to my side and slightly behind me, his arm draped warmly over my shoulder. I tilted my body to give him a better view.

His face lit up as he moved the white blanket with pink and blue stripes away from her tiny sleeping face. We grinned at each other and I moved to hand her to him.

"May I?" Edward turned and asked the Yees, receiving disbelieving looks and a nod from Ben that said, "Of course, no need to ask," before he bit ravenously into a sub sandwich.

I placed the tiny swaddled bundle in his arms, reveling in the contrast between his 6'2" height and masculine strength and her tiny, 5 hour-old delicacy. Her whole body, blankets and all was not even as long as my husband's forearm. I stood beside him, wrapped my arms around his waist, and leaned my head on his shoulder as we admired the sleeping baby together.

"She's beautiful," he murmured and turned his head to kiss the top of mine, keeping his face buried in my hair. I looked up into his misty eyes and squeezed him a little tighter while curving my lips just slightly upward.

"Hey man, thanks for the sandwiches," Ben interjected. "You would not believe the garbage they have down there in the cafeteria."

Angela admonished him, "Shut up, Ben!" and whispered, "If we want them to have a little playmate for Rachel someday, let them have their moment with her. Jeez!"

I snorted, embarrassed, and broke eye contact with Edward, shaking my head slightly.

He chuckled and quirked a brow, relieved that Angela had broached the uncomfortable subject.

"Actually, Ben, I'm quite familiar with hospital food," Edward admitted, crossing the room to gently place the baby in her bed. Ben nodded sheepishly as I dove into the bag of sandwiches and handed my husband his favorite, turkey on whole wheat. We all ate our lunch and filled Edward in on the details of Rachel's birth, cheering the fact that both Ben and Angela had remained conscious throughout the whole process. Rachel awoke, bleating out her newborn baby cry, face scrunched up and purple, hungry and angry to have been removed from her warm, dark, floating world and thrust into this place that was too bright, too loud, and so unfamiliar. We took this as our cue to leave. Edward had to head back to work and I decided to go as well, giving Angela some privacy to breastfeed.

"So, what did you think?" I asked as Edward led me through the parking lot to my car. He had found my car and parked right next to me.

"She's beautiful. Angela looks great. And it sounds like you were a fantastic coach."

I smiled, grateful for the compliment, and was suddenly overtaken by a huge yawn.

"You're exhausted. Are you going to be ok driving?" he worried.

"I'll be fine. The sandwich gave me some energy. I'll go pick Riley up and take a nap with him."

"I'll see if I can leave a little early today. And I'll bring something home for dinner so you don't have to cook. Get some rest and drive home safely, ok? Love you." He gave me a quick kiss. _Was this caring, charming man really the same guy who didn't deign to kiss me good night up until a couple of months ago? _

"I love you, too. Thanks for coming to visit. I know that meant a lot to them. And for lunch—I was starving!"

He shook his head, dismissing my unnecessary thanks. "I wouldn't miss it. She's amazing." He pulled me close and locked his fingers together on my lower back. "And you are amazing, too. Seeing you there in those scrubs and hearing about you being all authoritative in the L/D room gave me some good visuals for one of my fantasies, you know." He pressed me against the car with his body, caging me in his arms.

I raised my eyebrows, surprised at the change of tone. "And what would that be?"

"Naughty nurse Bella, of course." He lifted my chin with one finger and leaned in for a deep, wet, kiss. _Either I've created a monster with this fantasy basket thing, or seeing that new baby put him in the mood. Wow—making out against my car? It's been years!_

"Is that right…" the wheels in my mind began to turn, thinking up something fun for Thursday. "Well, you'd better get back to your patients, Doctor." I rested my hands on his hips. "I can assist you with some of your procedures another time." I slid a hand under the shirt of his scrubs and traced his happy trail with my fingertips, causing him to step back quickly.

"Soon, I hope." He opened the car door and helped me in, waving as I drove away.

…

"It was just incredible, Edward. I felt so… I don't know… powerful, I guess, helping this new life come into the world." I lifted a piece of broccoli to my mouth with the cheap, slivery, wooden chopsticks that come with take-out Chinese food. "That surprised me. I didn't think I'd react so strongly, just being a coach." I chopped up a few more steamed carrots with a fork and placed them on Riley's high chair tray. Is this what it feels like for you, when you save somebody's life?" I wondered if he was able to experience the level of joy and elation I'd felt about this birth at his job every day.

"Sometimes," he answered. "It's quite a rush, isn't it—the endorphin high?" He cocked his head, thinking how best to answer my question. "We're taught to stay objective and unattached, so saving someone feels more like reaching a goal or winning a competition." He pumped his fist in the air in mock celebration. "'Another one!' you know?" I nodded in understanding. "For me, births are more intense, more personal. It's hard not to feel a little awestruck with the new babies. They're so… miraculous." He smiled wistfully. "I loved my peds rotation. If I hadn't been so bent on collaborating with my dad, I probably would have specialized in that." I smiled at that thought. As I placed our boxes of leftovers in the fridge and cleaned up the table, my brow knit with the realization that he had to deal with the lows of losing some patients right alongside the highs of saving others. How difficult it must be to compartmentalize those extreme emotions every day and leave them at the hospital when he comes home to Riley and me. I could see how it may have been difficult for him to distinguish between what to leave at work and what to tell me about. It didn't excuse his lack of communication in the past, but it did help me understand it a little better.

After bathing Riley to wash the grains of sticky white rice from all the places he had managed to stick it—in his hair, between the folds of his neck, even down his diaper—I read him a story, said prayers, and tucked him in for the night. Then, physically and emotionally exhausted, I tucked myself into my own bed, resting my head and one arm across Edward's lap as he sat, propped up against the headboard, watching the daily business report. His hand followed a slow circuit, tracing behind my ear, down my neck, and along my shoulder until the announcer finished his commentary and Edward switched off the TV. He lay down and held me tightly to his chest, where I was lulled nearly to sleep by the sound of his steady, thumping heart. I turned my head slightly to place a tender kiss on his sternum. We lay still for a few minutes and I was almost asleep when he rubbed his hand in a slow, soothing circle on my back. I touched my lips to his chest twice more, ever so slowly and sighed when he moved my hair to one side, exposing my skin to his touch. My eyes remained closed as my fingers curled to squeeze his waist, eliciting a satisfied hum from him. We persisted in trading soft, slow touches, our lips and fingertips gradually increasing the pressure; our voices gently vocalizing our reactions.

"S'not Thursday," he slurred, voice full of near-sleep.

"Does it have to be?" I murmured into his shoulder between the slow, moist nibbles I placed along it. I felt his lips curl into a smile against my temple. He slid his fingers down my side and up again, sneaking under my tank top. He continued his gentle exploration, finally coming to rest under the elastic of my underwear. The taut fabric held his palm against my hip as he rubbed his thumb in lazy circles on the curve of my waist. I was a little self conscious about that spot. I'd never been able to quite lose all the baby weight that accumulated there, and I squirmed a bit, feeling exposed. Edward pushed the panties down and out of the way so that he could run his hand freely and more firmly up and down my side—breast, waist, hip, and back up—as he hooked his toes around them to pull them the rest of the way down my legs.

"Mmm… I love this womanly curve you have now," he breathed into my ear. "It's so sexy." My eyes shot open, my breath hitched, and I wrapped my arms around his neck, pulling him closer as my heart filled with gratitude. He couldn't have chosen a better compliment. I was sure he could feel the slight raised lines of the stretch marks on my hip that never completely faded, but he didn't seem to mind as he kissed me and continued trailing his hand along my side. He rolled from his back to his side, mirroring my position.

"Bella?" he murmured, "Thank you." He moved his hand to the side of my face and brushed his lips against mine in the tenderest of kisses. "Thank you for having my baby. I don't remember if I ever said that. I'm sorry if I didn't until now." I sniffed and nodded in acceptance of his words. I was sure he told me that at the hospital when Riley was born, but hearing him say it again now, and the sincerity behind his words, nearly moved me to tears. I lifted my leg over his thigh and curled my arm along his back, gripping the back of his shoulder, and pulled him in close. We clung to each other, trembling, desperate to hold each other closer, tighter. We lay still and quiet together, skin warming skin, hands slowly grazing whatever was within reach, both of us silent in the near-darkness but for our breathing and an occasional escaping whimper.

Our lips met, and after several languid kisses, our movements intensified. Kisses deepened, hands pressed harder, fingers gripped more tightly, legs tangled together, backs arched, pelvises lifted, voices groaned. Edward rolled on top of me, covering my body with his and gazing into my eyes, lit only by the full moon that shone through our window as he brushed a strand of hair behind my ear. I lifted my pelvis twice, shuddering as his penis passed over my sensitive nub. He breathed in deeply through his nose, leaning his head back, and released the air through his mouth with a slow, deep, "ohhhhh," as I tilted my hips and he pressed himself slowly inside me. We made slow, reverent love together, hips slow dancing to a shared rhythm, gradually carrying us to a crescendo that was sacred, shattering. As we stilled, holding each other, waiting for our breathing and our heartbeats to slow, a sense of peace overcame me, and somehow I knew that I could trust this man to be truly committed to me always. I knew we'd never go back to that dark and lonely place.

Weeks passed and there was a new spring in my step. I could tell that Edward was making a conscious effort to be there for me, and to really be present when he was home, talking to me instead of burying himself in work or that stupid Scrabble game he plays online against his brother. I was happy to have him home again most evenings, if not in time for dinner, then at least early enough to tuck Riley into bed. Life was good and I didn't dread the arrival of my birthday as much as I usually do.

It fell on a Thursday this year. I awoke to the noise of Edward clattering pans down in the kitchen, but stayed in my warm cocoon of blankets for awhile longer. Half an hour later, Riley burst into our room, shouting, "Mama, up! Pancakes." He moved his hand to his mouth in the sign for "eat."

"Did you make me some pancakes, Sweet Boy?"

"I bwoke a egg and Daddy FROWED 'em." My little guy enthusiastically acted out what Edward looked like flipping the pancakes. It was adorable.

"Watch out, there might be some shells in there." Edward warned me. I looked into his eyes and smiled. This is what family is all about. I reached out to caress his cheek and pulled his face to mine for a tender kiss.

"Thank you." I whispered, blinking the mist from my eyes as I turned to my son. "Hey Riley, I'm going to need some help eating all these pancakes! Will you come sit with me?" I held the tray aloft to keep it from spilling as he clambered onto the bed, and we sat together, Riley chattering on and on about making breakfast.

An hour later, cleaned up and dishes done, I was surprised to hear the doorbell ring. "Are you expecting someone?" I called out to Edward as I walked toward the front door. I don't think he heard me. Riley had run to the door and I found him grasping the doorknob with both hands, pulling on it, trying to open it.

"Gamma, Gampa!" he shouted. "Mama—open!"

"What?" I approached and saw Esme and Carlisle, hand in hand, through the window. Shocked, I turned the deadbolt and guided Riley away from the door so I could open it. "Edward!" I yelled upstairs. I think he was in the shower. "Oh my gosh—What are you guys doing here?" I thought maybe they had stopped to see us en route to a vacation or a conference Carlisle had to attend or something.

"Happy Birthday, Bella!" Esme pulled me into a hug. "Oh, Honey, it's so nice to see you." She turned and picked Riley up as Carlisle hugged me. "And you, young man, are getting so big! You're gonna be as tall as your daddy soon."

"Hey, you made it!" Edward, sparkly clean with damp hair, greeted his parents.

I crossed my arms. "What's going on here?"

What was going on was my birthday present from my husband. He had arranged for his parents to come down and watch Riley and had enlisted Alice to fill a suitcase with new clothes and toiletries, which was stashed in the trunk of his car. After a whirlwind goodbye to Riley and his grandparents, Edward whisked me away to the cruise ship terminal downtown, where we boarded a beautiful vessel bound for a weeklong cruise to Mexico. I barely had time to comprehend what was happening when I found myself leaning against the railing with my husband, sipping a margarita as we watched the San Diego skyline fade into the distance.

"Happy birthday, my love." He pulled me into a tight embrace "We've got a whole week, just the two of us."

From the moment we set sail, Edward and I used our time together to reconnect. As much as I love my son, it was wonderful to be childless again. We enjoyed gourmet meals and live entertainment. We sat by the pool and went dancing in the night club. We explored the beauty of Baja together at ports of call in Cabo, Mazatlan, and Puerto Vallarta. And we talked… a LOT. We talked about everything and nothing, about memories and future dreams, about serious subjects and silly things. On the few occasions that we needed a break from each other, Edward went to the gym or I visited the ship's library. Sometimes a little time apart helped us prepare for the next adventure we faced together or prompted our next great conversation.

We also enjoyed an unspoken competition with our neighbors. Entering our tiny cabin after dinner and a show on the first night of the cruise, tipsy and joking that we'd never fit in the twin-and-a-half sized bed (I was actually quoting Dr. Seuss at the time: 'my feet stick out of bed down here') our ears were assaulted. Proof that the cabin walls were quite thin and definitely not soundproof came from the muffled moans and sensual laughter, the tell-tale squeaking of bedsprings and rhythmic thumping of bodies against a mattress next door.

"Shhhhh… listen. We stilled as the sounds of their lovemaking invaded our room. "I guess the bed's big enough for that!" my slightly drunk husband mused in a voice just a tad too loud.

"Edward!" I froze and spoke in a stage whisper. "They're having sex!" I snickered. "You can hear them having sex. I bet they're on the ho-ney-moon!" I sang before dissolving into a fit of giggles.

Edward snorted and stumbled into me. "Honeymoons are fun, but we can do better than that, wife. We're honeymooners with four years of experience." I burst into laughter at Edward's hilarious joke. As the muffled noises intensified, Edward pressed me against the closed door, ran his hand along my side, breast to hip, and nuzzled into the crook of my neck. "Let's show them how to really do it." His hands landed on my ass and squeezed, crushing our crotches together.

I pushed away from his chest, whipped my top off and threw it to the floor. "Bring it, Baby!"

Our drunken romp that first night began an epic battle against the couple next door. Stamina, repeat performance, climax count—all were fair game in our nightly (and sometimes morning) competition. Some nights we took turns with our neighbors, the voyeuristic auditory foreplay feeding our desires. Other times we competed with them simultaneously, side-by-side, separated by the thin cabin wall. Our creativity and audacity grew as the week wore on, coming to a peak when Edward took me against the adjoining wall as our neighbors did the same, enjoying the mutual vibration against our backs. It was hot. It was crazy and risqué, but the anonymity made us bold.

I wondered if Edward had planned anything special for our Wednesday fantasy basket night. We certainly didn't need the extra impetus this week, but I found a familiar card on the bathroom sink Wednesday morning. Edward had handwritten:

_Let's go commando today. Wear a skirt_.

I sucked in a quick breath and laughed it out in a little guffaw. Emerging into the cabin after my shower, I made a show of placing my clean underwear back in the dresser drawer. I wore a sundress that skimmed my shins. He sat up on the bed, where he'd been reading the daily list of activities available on the ship and pulled me to stand between his knees, listing our choices for the day as his fingers inched up under my skirt. "We could do skeet shooting off the back of the ship," his fingers caressed the backs of my knees. "Or we could take a bar tending lesson out by the Lido pool," his fingers wrapped around the back of my thighs. "Or we could take a salsa dancing class in the disco," his hands reached my bare ass. "Mmm… I love those little cards." And gave it a squeeze. "Or we could watch a movie in the theater." His hands trailed around my hips and came to a rest on my pelvis, thumbs reaching down toward my bare and freshly-waxed folds. I had visited the onboard spa our first full day on the ship. I'd never had a Brazilian wax until my spa day with Esme a few months ago, but now I quite liked them. I wasn't the only one. "And then there's a formal dinner tonight."

"So I'll have to take this off?" I lifted my skirt and held it at my hips, providing Edward a good view. His eyes closed halfway and his tongue darted out to moisten his supple lips. He spread me with his thumbs, leaned in and licked, long and slow, causing me to shudder. "And I get to see you in your tux?" I asked with a quavering voice.

He nodded and continued pleasing me with his long and talented tongue, holding my hips steady as I raised my foot onto the bed next to him. Since my bent knee held up the skirt on one side, I used that hand to pull his face in closer, groaning at the increased sensation. Soon, I was writhing. My heart was racing. My hand clutched Edward's hair so tightly it must have hurt, but he continued on, sucking, flicking, slurping, licking, squeezing my ass. I was so close to ecstasy. Just a little more… I opened my eyes and looked down at my husband as he worked hard to please me. Sensing that I was watching, he lifted his eyes to mine. The look on his face was pure bliss. He moaned and that set off explosions of pleasure that radiated in all directions from the tiny spot he suckled to the very extremities of my body. Hot. Wet. Light. Love. The leg I was standing on gave out and I plunked down onto his lap, straddling his knee. We wrapped our arms around each other and kissed passionately as I came down from my high. His tongue continued it's manipulations against mine, sharing the tangy flavor of my own body.

"Hold on," he interrupted, backing away slightly and sticking his hand down his cargo shorts to adjust himself. "This feels so weird." He leaned back on his hands. I smiled and pulled his waistband out an inch or two, peering into the gap. I sucked in a breath and dipped my fingertips inside, grazing the head of his penis and causing it to jump slightly. As I moved to unbutton his fly, he stilled my hands.

"Later," he whispered. "Let's go salsa dancing."

I cocked my head at him, "You sure?"

He nodded and pressed his lips together. "I'll let you know when I want my turn. Let's go." My eyes widened and he flashed a devious smile my way as he stood us both up and reached for the door.

"Wait. Edward, aren't you going to brush your teeth or something?" I placed my fingers over my lips, knowing what my breath must smell like.

He smacked his lips. "Nope!" He pulled the door open and guided me out. I rolled my eyes and shook my head at him.

We spent a fun, sexy day flirting with each other and sneaking naughty touches. I worried that my skirt would fly up during our dance lesson and found myself smoothing it down several times to make sure I was covered up, even though it was long. I caught Edward shimmying his hips and pulling his hands around in his pockets to adjust himself throughout the day. When he caught me watching him, he'd shrug his shoulders and mouth, "Feels funny." I nodded in agreement. He's a briefs guy—not used to flapping around.

That afternoon, we went to a movie. I noticed that he took a big stack of napkins from the snack bar, discreetly sliding them into his pocket. And even though there were several better seats, he chose one in a back corner of the theater. As we settled into our seats and he lifted the arm rest out of the way, I gave him a knowing look.

"What?" he asked, trying to look innocent.

I smiled and shook my head at his façade.

"You just have a dirty mind." He pretended to be offended as he wrapped his arm around my shoulder and I slid my hand up his thigh, scratching my nails under the hem of his shorts. I don't remember anything about the movie, but the napkins came in handy.

Edward and I were distracted throughout dinner, playing footsie, stealing lusty glances at each other, eating seductively. My husband looks so sexy in a tux. We lost track of the conversation with our table mates a few times, and I felt bad for being rude. We'd been seated all week with two other couples around our age, an unmarried couple from L.A. who seemed to be big partiers and a sweet couple from Texas who were celebrating their 10th anniversary on the cruise, leaving their two young kids at home. It was interesting getting to know them as we dined together every night, but on this night my husband and I were more interested in each other. Samantha flashed me a wink as Edward whisked me away from the table right after dessert, so I think we were forgiven.

He led me hand in hand at a brisk pace to the front deck of the ship, to "look at the stars." _Yeah, right_. It was a public area, but not too many people were there at night. We leaned against the railing for awhile, Edward caging me in his arms as we gazed at the glowing crescent moon reflecting on the endless black sea. My hair was in an up-do and he bent his head forward to place kisses along my neck and shoulder, stopping to lap at the soft spot behind my ear. I leaned my head back against his shoulder and pressed my back to his chest as he circled his arms around my waist. I moaned as I felt him harden against my lower back. He looked around. "Come here," he urged, guiding me to a wall that was in the shadows and somewhat hidden, but not completely. He pressed me against the cold painted metal and kissed me urgently. "I want you. Right here. Right now." he growled.

I held my breath and I looked around nervously. "Are you sure?"

He'd already loosened his shirt and tie at the neck and was unbuttoning his pants. My eyes darted around as I tentatively lifted my skirt, inching it up by my fingertips to reveal my bare pelvis. Edward needlessly moistened his fingers in his mouth and rubbed just long enough to make sure I was ready before plunging himself deep inside me, hot and fast. A group of people walked down the hallway on the other side of the wall, not five feet away, talking and laughing boisterously as we fucked against the wall. During the day this area was alive with activity—shuffleboard, skeet shooting, climbing on the simulated rock wall—but few ventured to the darkened front of the ship at night, just some smokers needing a fix and couples seeking romance, like us. Still, the thrill of being seen, the danger of getting caught in public was exhilarating. We stared silently into each other's eyes, our thrusting punctuated only by heavy breathing and a few escaping grunts. I clenched my teeth as I came, hissing and gripping my arms and legs around my husband's still-clothed body and struggling to keep quiet. He followed me moments later, his face straining with the conflicting needs to bellow out in feral pleasure and the careful concern to remain hidden and silent. I did hear a tiny "Fuck, Bella," sneak out which made me clench around him. We clung to each other as our breathing normalized, then quickly adjusted our clothing and returned to our spot along the railing, as if we'd been stargazing the whole time. I shivered as the ocean breeze cooled my skin, damp with perspiration. Edward flashed his jacket open so that I could snuggle inside and he wrapped me in his warm embrace.

"Thank you," He breathed into my ear, his chest still heaving with exertion and excitement.

I turned my head to give him a kiss on the cheek, then nuzzled my head in his neck, too overwhelmed by the sensation I was still coming down from to talk.

The next morning, our last day on the ship, we were instructed to place our suitcases outside our door so that they could be picked up and brought ashore when we reached San Diego that evening. I held the door as Edward dragged our two large cases into the hallway. Suddenly, he stopped short and I walked right into his back. I peeked around him to see what was going on and quickly hid behind him. The neighbors, previously only heard but never seen, were there in the hallway, too. Edward composed himself quickly. "Morning." He greeted them with a nod and hurried me toward the elevator bay. As they followed us there, I glanced up at Edward, who smirked in embarrassment.

As I pushed the button to call the car I couldn't resist. I know it was immature but I had to say it. I swallowed and asked clearly, "Going down?" There were only other passenger cabins below us—we always took the elevator UP. All four of us fought it for a moment and then burst into giggles and snorts. I covered my mouth with my hand as my body shook with laughter, tears of mirth filling my eyes, "I'm sorry, I couldn't resist." The elevator arrived with another couple already inside and we tried to compose ourselves as we entered.

"We missed you last night. Taking some time off?" the man next door teased.

"Honey!" his wife admonished him, slapping her hand against his arm. By their mannerisms and interaction, I could tell that they were not honeymooners at all. They looked a little older than we—mid to late 30s, maybe. I wondered what their story was.

Edward looked at me and quirked an eyebrow, replying, "No, we just wanted to spend our last night on the ship out in the open air, so we… hung out up on the bow."

I widened my eyes at him.

The wife smiled and raised her eyebrows, knowingly. "How Titanic of you; without the iceberg, of course." Her husband nudged her with his elbow. She rolled her eyes and addressed us. "We tell our kids that R-rated movies are bad and we try to practice what we preach, but sometimes… you know."

"Your secrets are safe with us," Edward promised. We arrived at our floor and headed toward the buffet. "Going to the buffet?" he asked.

"Yes, the last one," she sighed. "I've eaten so much on this trip, I'll have to spend the next six months in the gym."

We entered the line and her husband leaned in so that only the four of us could hear, "Don't worry, I think we've worked most of it off already."

We sat with them for breakfast where the innuendo continued and we ended up spending most of the day with them. Katie and Max Marshall, from Cedar City, Utah. As we got to know them better, I was sorry that we hadn't met sooner. It was refreshing to see a couple who were so in tune with each other. They reminded me a bit of my in-laws. When I found out that they had six kids, I was even more impressed. (Of course, someone quipped about the activities that lead to having six kids.) We ventured out to the front of the ship so Edward could finally try out the skeet shooting, glad to have met someone who was interested in that. As we passed by the spot we'd enjoyed the night before, I blushed and bit my lips together. Edward smirked and said, "Would you excuse us a moment?" to our new friends. He hurried me over to the exact spot of our liaison the night before, pressed me against the wall, and kissed me with fervor. There were people around this time, and everything was lit up in the bright sunshine.

"Edward, jeez!" My blush deepened and I gave him an annoyed look. He was being such an animal around these nice people.

We rejoined our new friends. "Sorry," Edward claimed, "I just felt the sudden urge to kiss my beautiful wife." He squeezed my hand.

"Mm hm," Max answered dryly. "You never know what's going to happen when you hang out up on the bow."

I hung back with Katie and we let the guys walk on ahead of us. "I'm so sorry. We're not usually like this. He's carrying this all way too far." As I thought about our actions all week, I started to feel humiliated and ashamed.

"Hey, don't worry about it. Really, Bella." She comforted me. "This is out of character for us, too. _Very_ out of character. In our real lives, we're always so responsible and upstanding and… conservative. It's been fun to let that go this week, to let loose for awhile. I understand that you're just doing the same thing."

I nodded, relieved. "Thanks. You, too."

"Tell me, though, did you guys really," she lifted her eyebrows suggestively, "over there?"

I covered my face and cringed. "It was almost completely dark and there was nobody out here." I rationalized and shook my head. "Talk about out of character."

"I bet it was exciting, though." She was digging for details, I could tell.

I nodded in affirmation, just barely tilting my chin down. "Extremely."

We said goodbye to the ship and our new friends that evening, promising to keep in touch. It was sad that our cruise to Never Never Land had come to an end, but we were both eager to see our little boy. He was in bed when we got home, so we tiptoed into his room and watched him sleep for awhile, smiling at his cute little snores. Downstairs, Esme and Carlisle assured us that he'd been an angel all week long. I'm sure they were lying.

"Bella, I hope you don't mind, but you'll find a surprise up in your room."

"Really? What is it?" I got a little nervous. "It's not another fantasy basket-type thing, is it?" I muttered, heading for the stairs.

She laughed and placed her hand on my shoulder reassuringly. "No, nothing like that. Edward," she called to her son, "would you come upstairs for a minute, please?"

I was curious as she stood blocking the door to our master suite, waiting for Edward to join us. When he did, I reached for his hand, trying to retain some of the close physical connection we'd made on our trip.

"I really hope it's ok. I took the liberty of…" she threw open the double doors to our suite, revealing a beautiful, inviting sitting room. She had decorated in our absence.

I gasped. "Oh, Esme. It's beautiful." I was stunned at the transformation. We turned and entered the bedroom. "Wow…" It was amazing what she had done. We stood in the same room with the same furniture, but it felt like a whole new bedroom, rich and comforting, elegant and absolutely gorgeous. Our master bathroom was enhanced with candles and plants and art and a full length mirror in a gilded frame. I had the urge to fill the tub with bubbles and continue our vacation right there at home.

Esme looked at us and asked confidently, "Well? What do you think?"

I gave her a big hug. "I love it. It's better than I could have ever imagined. Thank you so much."

I was overwhelmed and needed to walk through all three rooms again. As I passed through, I noticed touches I hadn't seen at first glance. There were so many little details that played to Edward's and my personalities and hobbies and preferences. We both loved what she had done. I was drinking it all in when I noticed a new piece of furniture in the retreat. From the doorway, it was blocked by the couch, so I hadn't seen it on our first pass. I recognized the modern, undulating form sitting in the corner and looked to Esme, slightly panicked. _Is that_… She smiled, raised her eyebrows, and gave a little shrug.

"Well, kids, I'm glad you like your new room. I hope it brings you happiness and comfort and pleasure." I gulped at that last word. "Good night."

"The trompe l'oeil your mom painted is amazing, Edward. Did you see this? It looks like a crumbling stone wall. I feel like we're in an Italian villa that's hundreds of years old." We were getting ready for bed and I kept noticing new details.

"Mm hm. Hold on…" I frowned as he typed something onto his Ipad. Before I had the chance to complain about going right back to his old habits—ignoring me—he set it down on the coffee table. _Good_.

He looked up. "Yeah, it's cool, huh? I can't believe how much these arches look like real windows. We got an ocean view after all."

"Your mom is so talented. She's incredible."

He nodded in agreement. "I don't know what she was thinking with that thing, though. It seems way too modern. It doesn't really go with the rest of it."

I blushed and bit my tongue. "Something to make it eclectic, I guess? Maybe you should ask her about it." I sunk into the chair, molding my body into its dips and curves. "Mmmm… it is comfy, though." I smiled**,** dreamily and lifted my arms above my head, stretching into a seductive position. "C'mere and try it."

"Wait a sec." He had taken up the Ipad again.

"Edward!" I complained.

He tore his eyes away from the device to plead with me. "Just one more. I have the perfect word, as long as he didn't use the 'S'I need. Then I'll turn it off, I promise."

I huffed out of my nose, wary of his true intentions. He'd been sucked into hours-long competitions after claiming 'one more word' too many times before. I got up and started unloading my suitcase.

The tablet chirped with an instant message and I could sense a change in the air.

"You've got to be kidding me." He sounded pissed.

"Did Emmet use your 'S'?" I called, coming out of the closet with a handful of empty hangers.

Scowling, Edward held the screen up for me to read. I could see the IM window covering part of the scrabble board but it was too far away for me to read, so I approached, hooking the clothes hangers on a towel rod along the way, and reached for it.

I couldn't help but chuckle at what Emmett had written.

"What the hell, Bella? Did you know about this?" he fumed.

**A/N**

Yes, a cliffhanger. (Just a little one.) And you have to wait two chapters…

Please excuse my PSA for natural (drug/surgery-free) childbirth. Just trying to do my tiny part in balancing out all the horror-filled birth scenes that seem to fill the media these days. If you want to learn more check out bradleybirth dot org or send me a message. I do not know if my VBAC description was accurate—no experience there. If I was way off, I apologize.

I included the Ipad reference in homage to Steve Jobs, who passed away the day I wrote this chapter. Imagine what our world would be like without his vision and tenacity. Imagine what our world could have been like if he'd been in it for another 20 years.

I can't imagine a world without a beta like Besotted to make things better. Thanks!

And thanks to all of you for reading! Your reviews make my day. I read them over and over again.

JEN

Twitter: JenEsmeFF

**PLEASE VOTE!**

**The Fantasy Basket has been nominated for an EMERGING SWAN AWARD:**

_**The Emerging Swan Awards' mission is to bring recognition and acclaim to all those little stories that could. The ones you fall in love with and can't figure out why people haven't discovered them yet. We're hoping to bring them the kind of attention and love you think they deserve.**_

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**JEN**


	19. Chapter 17, Esme: Reach for the Stars

**The Fantasy Basket**

**By JenEsme**

**Inspired by Stephenie Meyers' Twilight series. No infringement intended.**

**Chapter 17—Esme: Reach for the Stars**

**Posted 9/19/12**

June 1991

Tuesday was a great day. Despite the less than stellar interview I'd had that morning at one of the galleries Siobhan had referred me to, I was unusually happy and optimistic. I had a great new opportunity from Siobhan herself in one pocket and a little slip of paper that outlined plans for some fun loving with my husband in the other. I pulled it out and read the fantasy again, surprised at the audacity I'd had when writing it:

"Let's go stargazing in the backyard…" it began. I shivered with anticipation. _I'm sure glad this one came up during the summer!_ The weather outside was clear and warm. It would be a perfect night for it, though I was a little nervous. _Maybe we could make a whole evening of it and have dinner outside, too. _

I couldn't focus on that now, though. I had camps to register for and carpools to arrange for all the days I'd be working in my new job_. Hee hee, MY NEW JOB!_ I was giddy with excitement about it and took the boys to the library that afternoon so I could check out a few books about the technical aspects of interior design. It was a little scary to think of doing something new and completely unknown, especially after a decade away from the professional world. Educating myself, at least a little bit, would give me some confidence to jump in with both feet and just do it.

Carlisle arrived home and found all three of us poring over books we'd checked out.

"FIIIIRST HUUUUG!" Edward ran full speed toward his dad, crashing into him. Emmett and I followed behind, staying out of his path.

"Oof! Easy there, Buddy!" He lifted Edward into his arms and I realized wistfully that he wouldn't be able to do that for much longer. His seventh birthday was in a few days, and he had always been tall for his age. _He's getting so big._ "How was science camp?" Both boys told him excitedly about what they had done that morning, interrupting each other with increasing volume as each tried to prove that his class was better than his brother's. "Did they give you homework?" he asked, wondering about the books he saw us reading.

"No, Dad! Mom took us to the library so we can do the summer reading program, and she got some books for her new job."

He looked at me. "So, you decided to take it?"

"Yes! I called Siobhan back today. We ironed out all the details, and I'll start on Thursday!"

"Isn't Mommy awesome, you guys?" He set Edward down, ruffled Emmett's hair, and stepped toward me. With his arms around my waist, he kissed me and pulled me into a hug. He tipped my chin up with his fingers and looked into my eyes. "Congratulations." I could see the pride in his eyes before he kissed me again, more deeply.

"Ewwww! Daaaaad! Gross!" Emmett grimaced at our show of affection. Carlisle chuckled at him and gave me another, extremely sloppy, loud, exaggerated kiss, just to tease the boy. Em hid his face behind his book and hurried upstairs to his room. Edward wandered back to the couch to continue reading his book.

"How was your day, Sweetie?" I kept my arms around his neck.

"Mmm-mm. It was long—meetings all day." He looked tired and relieved to be home.

"Well, it's been so nice out that I thought we could eat outside tonight." His eyes darted to me and he lifted an eyebrow. I looked down and bit my lips together. "_That_ part will come later," I whispered,shaking my head and rolling my eyes in mocking disbelief. "Would you mind firing up the grill once you get changed?"_ I swear, with this Fantasy Basket business I turned on a dirty mind in Carlisle that was never there before_. _Who IS this sex-crazed guy?_

"Sure." I thought he was going to back away, but first he checked to see that Edward was thoroughly engrossed in his book. Then he pulled me close for a long, sensual kiss and sneaked his hand down to squeeze my behind. He gave it a light smack and turned to trot up the stairs.

"Ewww, gross!" I called jokingly after him. He laughed down at me before disappearing around the landing. I smiled to myself as I prepped our dinner, thinking about how things seemed to be falling so nicely into place right now. Just a year ago, I'd felt so hopeless, so blue, so lonely.

…

Later that night, after checking carefully to make sure the boys were asleep, Carlisle and I snuck out the back door with blankets in hand. We passed the grill and the eating area, crossed the lawn, and stood way out in back, where the woods behind the house meet the yard. I looked around nervously, hoping that we wouldn't be in view of any neighbors, cars driving by, airplanes flying over…

"Relax, Es," Carlisle assured me, "we've got a big yard. No one will see us. Or hear us." He spread his blanket on the ground and then smiled deviously as he reached behind his neck to pull his t-shirt off. Looking me in the eye, he pushed his pajama pants off. He wore nothing underneath, and stood, buck naked, outdoors, with his arms spread wide, looking up at the sky. "Aaahhhhh," he sighed. "Feels good. Very refreshing. A little dangerous," he smirked, stalking toward me like a predator approaching its prey. "Join me?" He combed the fingers of one hand through my hair and kissed me again and again, nudging my mouth open so that he could enter it with his tongue. His other hand curved around my waist, fingers sneaking under my pajama top. I mirrored him, wrapping one arm around his waist and the other over his shoulder. I was startled to feel his bare skin and smoothed my hand downward, unencumbered, to the curve of his rear.

"Hey," he complained, "we need to even things up." He lifted the hem of my pajama shirt, urging me to lift my arms so that he could pull it over my head. My skin chilled in the brisk night air, breaking out into goose bumps, my nipples peaking with cold. I went to embrace him, eager for the body heat and the cover, but he held me away. "Hold on a sec." He slid the elastic waistband of my pajamas down over my hips, catching my underwear along with them and dropping both to the ground. He backed away and I crossed my arms in front of me, feeling exposed and trying to cover what I could.

"Ezzy, please?" he wrapped me in his arms, bringing me some comfort. "It's just me. Please let me look at you. I want to see your beautiful body in the moonlight," he breathed into my ear. My eyes darted back toward the windows in our house. Emmett's room, Edward's room… both dark. "It's just you and me, Es. No one can see us here. I checked earlier. This is the perfect spot."

"You did?" I smiled. _Of course he did. He plans everything_. He nodded. I took a deep breath and a step back, hands at my sides. I slowly lifted my shy eyes to his face, gaping at his body as I did so. _Oh, that's what he meant_. He was practically glowing under the three quarter moon, an ethereal bluish-white, beautiful, like a marble statue of a Greek god. Did I look the same to him? A look at his mesmerized face gave me my answer. He was right about the feeling of freedom, too. The slight breeze was chilling but invigorating as it awakened never before exposed parts of my body. I felt wild, natural.

Recalling something I had read, I decided at that moment to let go of my inhibitions. My fear of being seen and my modesty weren't doing either of us any good. I wrote that fantasy because it was something new and exciting that I thought would be fun to try, so I needed to try. I needed to get out of my own way and just do it. I stood a little taller and took a deep breath. Carlisle's eyes widened as my chest jutted out and narrowed with disappointment when I leaned over to gather my discarded pajama pants. I dug my hand into the pocket to remove the familiar slip of paper and dropped them back to the ground. Then I began to read to him, using my most alluring voice.

"It's exciting to be naked outside with you." I looked in his eyes and stepped closer to my husband. "The grass makes a wide, comfortable bed as we roll and tumble around each other." I placed my hand on his chest. "The cool breeze chills my skin and hardens my nipples, inviting you to warm them with your caresses and hot breath." He placed a hand on my chest, lifting my breast as he gently squeezed. I pulled him into an embrace, warming both of us, and gave him a kiss—one long, slow, soulful kiss. I backed away and read the rest, punctuating my words with kisses along his shoulder and throat. "I get lost looking into the vast sky and thousands of stars above our heads as you make me see stars of my own. And I love to purr, grunt, and growl into the deep woods, our sounds melding with the animal sounds all around us without walls or rooms of sleeping children nearby to stifle us."

He grabbed me frantically and lowered us to the blanket, rolling and groaning as his lips attacked mine and his hands grasped desperately at any part of my body, every part of my body. I relished the feeling of being taken, being consumed, as I clawed at his back, his shoulders, and I battered his lips and tongue with my own. He surfaced to catch his breath, panting, and growled, "Your words, Es, they've been haunting me all day." He squeezed my breast roughly. "I couldn't get them out of my mind." I didn't tell him that Carmen had written most of this one, based on _her_ experience outdoors one time. He gripped the roots of my hair, tugging my head aside to expose my neck, which he attacked with his lips, his tongue, his teeth. He was wild with lust, like an animal, snapping at my jugular, going for the kill.

I scratched my fingers through his silky hair and down the back of his neck to grip his shoulders as he moved his assault to my breasts, cupping them in his hands as he sucked one and then the other into his mouth, teasing the nipples with his tongue, his teeth, his fingers until I cried out. As he continued pleasing my chest, his hand raked down my body to its destination between my legs. He grabbed me from the outside and gave me a squeeze, then splayed his hand flat and moved it in circles, pressing against my clitoris with his palm while his fingers spread my labia, opening me. Suddenly, he bit my nipple, sending a surge of thick fluid to his waiting fingers, which he plunged inside me and curled to scratch my g-spot. I writhed and turned my head from side to side, moaning and grunting. I was so close, so quickly as his fingers pumped aggressively in and out of me, his palm brushing my clit each time. "There. Right there. Like that," I directed as I rolled my nipple under my own fingertips, providing just the additional sensation needed to send me flying. The noises I made through my orgasm were louder and longer than I would ever consider making inside the house. Outside in the wide open I felt uninhibited, unrestrained. Carlisle loved it loud. My noises fed his excitement and he rammed himself inside me instantly. He couldn't get his fingers out of the way soon enough, so he left them at my entrance for a moment, feeling himself pump in and out, gathering my wetness off himself with each stroke.

"Unnnngh! Fuck, Es. Ohhh…" He slid his dripping fingers up to my clitoris, rubbing urgently until they started to dry. His swearing made me buck and clench around him, which brought on even louder cries and deeper, harder thrusts.

As I lay on my back and lifted my hips to meet his deep, assertive thrusts, I looked up in a daze, straight above me into the inky black sky. It was incredible. There were thousands of stars peeking through, mere pinpoints of light. But there were _so many_ of them. I felt insignificant in comparison to the universe stretched out above me, realizing that we were no different than any other pair of creatures out here in the woods, mating, doing our duty to propagate our existence. No different from the wolves, or the birds, or the field mice, or even the bugs. We were meant for this act.

I turned off the analytical, human part of my brain and let instinct guide my actions. My movements and noises were gruff, loud, animalistic. I pushed on Carlisle's shoulder, prompting him to roll us over so that he could witness the vast sky above as I had. He groaned and smiled as he looked into my eyes while I rode him, snarling, with my hands on his chest. I tilted my head and my eyes up, urging him to look above me. He gasped. He swept his head from side to side to take it all in and a look of awe came over his face. Carlisle laced his fingers with mine, wanting a closer connection. His hands gave me leverage to push into him harder, faster, deeper, and I began to cry out, howling almost, as I felt my body begin to grip and squeeze with the familiar tingling that built up slowly and exploded into a thousand points of light, just like the stars above us. As my movements slowed, Carlisle grasped me by the hips, lifted me off of him, and guided me to my hands and knees. I smiled drunkenly as he plunged inside me from behind. _He's feeling the animal instinct, too._ After minutes, or maybe hours, of raw, hard, loud, feral, fucking—god, it was good—Carlisle let out a roar worthy of the fiercest lion as his orgasm tore through his body, and shot the essence of his manhood into my womb. We collapsed and he lay on top of my back, kissing my shoulder and clinging to me until our hearts and lungs resumed their normal pace.

"You ok?" he murmured, nuzzling the shell of my ear with his nose.

I nodded. "Wow," was all I could say.

He chuckled at my loss for words and gave me a quick kiss behind the ear. "Thank you" he whispered. Thank you for all of my Tuesdays."

…

Kate was nearly as thrilled as I that I would be working on her house with Siobhan's guidance. She loved what we presented to her that Friday, and we got to work immediately. Siobhan was tough, but a great teacher and mentor. She sent me back to the drawing board many times, often with very little feedback . While that was extremely frustrating and difficult, I realized that she was teaching me to think for myself rather than rely upon her expertise. I thanked her for it in the end. She was the best, and she taught me to be my best. She also became a great friend.

The busy summer passed quickly, and soon the boys were going back to school. Emmett was starting 6th grade—middle school—and Edward would be skipping a grade and starting in 3rd. I worried about him being younger and less mature than his peers, but he was so smart, his little brain needed the challenge. I also worried about Emmett. Kids could be so cruel at that age. A week into the new school year, both boys seemed to be holding their own, even thriving, in their new environments.

I was thriving in my new work environment, too. I loved interior design. When I decorated my own house, I did it based on feelings and what I liked, but the more I learned about the technical side of design and learned to make informed decisions, the more excited I became. It was akin to a whole new genre of art—livable art—fraught with layers and textures and colors and motifs in a huge array of media. It was invigorating. My first big project—Kate's house—was almost finished. Our goal was to wrap it up by Labor Day, when she had a big party planned for the doctors and their wives from Garrett and Carlisle's medical group. No one got out of hosting at least one or two events for the group every year, and it was always a stressful show of materialism. Kate was anxious to show off her newly decorated house, and I was thrilled to take part in making that possible.

Although I was working with Siobhan, and she was definitely going to take me on as a permanent employee after finishing Kate and Garrett's house, I kept in touch occasionally with Laurent at his gallery. He didn't yet know about the work I was doing with Siobhan. I planned to tell him at a show she and I would be attending together. So, I dropped Carlisle off at the airport for a week-long conference in Chicago and went straight to the gallery, arriving a half hour early.

"Esme, how lovely to see you." He greeted me in French and we exchanged niceties for a few minutes. I saw Tia in the next room, directing the caterer.

"I see Tia is still here, Laurent. When will she be leaving for school?"

"Ah, yes," he answered sadly. "She will be leaving us next week. Speaking of which…" He switched back to English and called over a young girl whom I'd assumed was with either the artist or the caterer. "Esme, zees is Kebi. She weel be taking over for Tia as my right hand."

"Oh!" I was surprised but quickly composed myself. "Uh, how nice to meet you." We made small talk for a moment before she excused herself and rushed off to assist Tia. The show would be open in 15 minutes. Although I no longer wanted the job at Laurent's, I was flustered by the fact that he had offered it to someone else without so much as a word or an interview. When I asked him about it, he responded, nonchalant, that she came highly recommended by Tia and that she was a lot less expensive than I would have been to hire.

"Well, that's interesting, Laurent," I replied, furrowing my brow, "considering that you and I never had the opportunity to discuss salary."

"Mm." he smiled, flippantly, "C'est la vie. You, my dear, are destined for much bigger things than this." He patted my upper arm, patronizingly, and walked away under the guise of helping the girls unlock the doors for the show. I vacillated between feeling livid and not caring a whip about Laurent and his gallery. I was brooding over my thoughts when Siobhan joined me.

"Hey there, Esme. You look like you could use some of this." She handed me a flute of champagne and I explained the situation to her.

"He practically promised the job to me three months ago, Siobhan. I came tonight so that I could tell him face-to-face that I was working with you. You know, let him down gently." I huffed in exasperation.

When I pointed Kebi out to her, she just shook her head with a wry smile. "Well, Esme, Hon, it's pretty obvious to me that your skirt just wasn't short enough for him to want you around every day. You're happy working with me, right?"

"Of course, Siobhan. I didn't mean to…" She shook her head, dismissing my apology. "It's just… I'm disappointed in him. And I'm a little hurt."

"Well, sure you are." She got a devious look in her eye. "You haven't told him you're working with me yet?"

"No, I haven't had the chance."

"Well, let's go check out this new guy's work. I'm sure Laurent'll find us later. He never misses a chance to kiss my ass, in hopes that I'll keep bringing my clients in." We perused the gallery, admiring a display of paintings by a talented young artist who was new on the scene. He was good. Siobhan has a background in art history, and always specifies original artwork in her proposals to clients. I had grown to know her well enough to tell that she liked his work and would recommend it. We caught up with him and Siobhan was grilling him about his other work when Laurent slithered up.

"Shee-van, my dear, how are you?" He kissed her cheeks. "You look lovely as always." _Hmm… That's just like the greeting I'm used to hearing_. He gave me a tight smile, but focused on her. With my rose colored glasses off, it was obvious that he had targeted and was fawning over the one in our group who had the greatest potential to make him some money. _God, I'd been so naïve_. "I see you've met our new shining star." He patted the artist on the back, stroking his ego as every temperamental artist needs.

"Yes. I think he's got a lot of potential." She handed the artist a business card and asked him to call so that she could view some of his other work as he was pulled away to talk to some other patrons. Laurent started to shift nervously, worried that she was going to circumvent the gallery—and his commission. He offered to do a private showing for her and basically looked like he was about to pee his pants. "Oh here, Laurent. I'll give you one, too. I got some new cards printed. We're going through a few changes, so you might want to update your records." His eyes grew wide and she handed me one as well with a look that told me we'd talk about it later. I looked at the card and was shocked to see an entirely new masthead:

CULLEN - O'LEARY

Interior Design and Art Consultation

_What?_ I swallowed my shock and smiled calmly at Laurent as he sputtered and looked back and forth between Siobhan and me. He reverted to his native French, too shocked to translate into English.

"Esme, what is this? You two are working together now? When did this happen? How could I not have known? I thought you wanted the job here." He stopped talking, realizing that he was digging himself into a hole.

"Well, Laurent, my old friend," I spoke in English, for Siobhan's benefit. "You did tell me that I was destined for bigger and better things, right after you told me about giving the job to a 22 year old with no experience."

"Yes, Laurent," Siobhan cut in. "I wanted to discuss that with you. We were talking to Kebi tonight, and I'm really not all that confident in her abilities. She's a nice girl, but I'm not sure I'd feel comfortable seating our clients with a gallery rep who knows less about art than we do. I'm sure you can appreciate that." She checked her watch. "Oh, Esme, our dinner reservation is in 20 minutes. We'd better get going. Laurent… it's been a pleasure, as always. I hope the new girl works out for you." We strode confidently to the door, leaving Laurent practically hyperventilating at the probable loss of a key source of his income.

The two of us broke out in laughter as soon as the doors closed behind us.

"That'll teach him not to piss off the grown ups! He's a worm. I've wanted to put him in his place for years," Siobhan chortled.

"Are you really going to stop taking clients there? It is the best gallery in town."

"I don't know. That's really up to you. Depends on how vengeful you wanna be. I have a feeling we'll go back, but let's make him sweat it out for a little while, shall we?" I laughed as we ducked into the restaurant, which was just a few doors down from the gallery.

"So, Siobhan," I started, tentatively, "What is THIS?" I held up the new business card with my name prominently displayed in front of hers.

She smiled, sheepishly as she reached into her bag. "I'm sorry that came out before I had a chance to talk to you about it. The opportunity with Laurent was just too perfect to pass up!" She placed a box of business cards on the table in front of me. Same new masthead, with my name and contact information. "Listen, Esme, it has been a real pleasure working with you on the Randall project. You far exceeded the high expectations I set for you going into this."

"Well, thank you, I…"

She continued. "I know that we agreed that you'd come on as a permanent employee next month, and the short answer about the new company name is that I think it's important for our clients to start thinking of us as equals—interchangeable. Now, you're not there yet, obviously. It's gonna take a lot of hard work on your part. But I don't want anyone to discount you—vendors or clients. I don't want them going over your head to ask me for help with issues that you can handle just fine on your own. That's the short answer. What I'd really like to do is discuss some longer range plans I have for the business, and see how you might want to fit into those.

"That is so kind and generous of you, Siobhan, but this card makes it look like we're partners or something. And why in the world would you put my name first? I don't even know what I'm doing yet, I…"

She held up her finger to silence me. "First lesson, CONFIDENCE. You've got the collective knowledge and experience of both of us to draw from, so use it! If we want our clients to think of us equally, we need to think of ourselves that way."

"Ok."

"Here's how I envision things going in the next few years. Just bear with me."

I nodded, paying rapt attention as she described how she planned to work me into her business. Over the next year or two, she would teach me all she knew, involve me with more clients and vendors, and she would also expect me to bring in new clients, just like she does. Kate was a good start, she told me, and she had the cards printed right now so that we could leverage that engagement at the Labor Day party the Randalls planned to host, hopefully gaining some new business among her guests.

"I renamed us Cullen-O'Leary for a couple of reasons. First of all, it just flows better with your name first. But also, we need to maximize the name recognition that both of us have to promote you in this community and in the industry. I've worked hard to build a solid reputation and as long as you don't do anything to screw that up, you're welcome to use my name to help you open some doors. Your name holds some value, too, though—at least your husband's does. A lot of my clients know Dr. Cullen, either as patients or through the hospital benefits and charities he's involved with. He's well respected and trusted. If that name recognition can help open some new doors for us, or at least start some conversations, I'm all for it."

Siobhan explained that she would, indeed, like to form a partnership once I'd proven myself, obtained the necessary industry certifications, and started pulling in an equal share of the firm's new business. How quickly that happened was really up to me, but her son was a sophomore in high school this year, and when he left for college, she hoped to leave Seattle as well, perhaps opening a second office in the San Francisco Bay area. I was shocked until she hinted that she may have a special someone who lived in Silicon Valley.

"I grew up down there, you know. I moved to Seattle kicking and screaming when my ex-husband took a job up here. I've grown to love Seattle, but even after all these years, I'm still living under his shadow. 'Are you any relation to Liam O'Leary?' I get that all the time. Pfft!" She shook her head and sighed. "So when baby number three leaves the nest, I think it'll be time for me to fly south for the winter." She smiled and leaned forward to touch my arm. "And I'm so glad I found you. I'm hoping that you'll take care of my fourth little baby for me when I'm gone." She tapped the box of business cards. I was stunned. This was a lot to take in. I couldn't believe that she was considering all of this after working with me for only a few months. A whole career, a thriving business, was being dropped into my lap. _Why me? What's the catch?_ It was too much to process over dessert.

She laughed at my obvious shock. "Just promise me you'll think about it, Esme. We'll take it one step at a time."

"Of course. Thank you… This is… Wow!"

I sent the babysitter on her way, checked on my sleeping boys, and called Carlisle at his hotel in Chicago as soon as I got home. It was late, and he had been travelling all afternoon, but I really needed to talk to him. My words flew a mile a minute as I described my evening to him. He was proud of me, but probing, asking a lot of thought-provoking questions about things I hadn't considered in my excitement. _He's so smart. I'm so glad to have him as my partner in life, helping me through things like this._ We didn't talk too long. It was late and he had an early start at the conference the next day. I hung up with a lot to ponder but feeling confident.

The following night, I called Carlisle early enough that the boys could tell him about their days. I listened in as Emmett described getting his PE locker and having to dress out for class for the first time. Edward was thrilled to tell his dad about losing yet another tooth.

"I bit into my sandwich and my tooth came out. It got some blood on my sandwich—just a couple of drops. But that was ok. I ate it anyway 'cuz I was really hungry. And besides, blood tastes good. I like it." _What?_ G_ross! _

I took the phone and sent the boys up to prepare for bed. When I put it to my ear, Carlisle was laughing. "Es, I've sired a vampire! Don't tell my folks. They might just put together a hunting party!" We both enjoyed a chuckle about Edward's blood lust before Carlisle told me about his day. He'd attended a lecture presented by a Dr. Snow from UC San Diego. He touched on some things that were similar to the issues that had frustrated Carlisle, and the two of them talked at length later in the day. They met up with a Dr. Jenks for dinner, someone Dr. Snow knew, and by the end of their meal the three of them had sketched out a research project to collaborate on. Jenks was the Scientific Officer for MicroCardiOptics, a medical device company that would fund their research. "Jenks is kind of a jerk. He's this young, arrogant guy, but he's brilliant and he's got his company's money to back us. I really think that together, we could move my idea forward!" He was so excited. I wished I were there to celebrate with him. In a role reversal from the previous evening, I asked him some pointed questions about working with someone like that, and whether Carlisle wanted to be financially committed to him, and (most important to me) how an additional research project would affect his family time

"We don't need the extra money, you know. You don't have to do this," I teased. He started to get defensive, before realizing that I'd thrown his own line to me, back at him. Now, he understood.

We talked every night on the phone. I missed him, especially on Tuesday night.

"I miss you. I can't wait 'til Friday. How did we _ever_ get through that whole year apart in college?"

"Oh, that was so hard." He paused and then chuckled. "I don't know about you, but I got to be _really_ good friends with my right hand that year."

"What!?"

"Come on, Es. Don't tell me you didn't masturbate."

"Well, once in awhile, but… jeez, Carlisle, how often did you do that?"

"Uh… I don't know. A few times a week, I suppose."

"Oh my gosh, Preacher Boy!"

"What? I was 22. I was in my sexual prime and my girlfriend was halfway around the world. What'd you expect me to do?"

"I don't know. I just… I never really thought about it, I guess." I laughed nervously. "I tried not to think about those things at all," I continued quietly, "because that would make me miss you too much. Just like tonight, I'm going crazy. I wish I hadn't gotten rid of all those smutty books I used to read."

"Hmm." I was glad when he seemed to be changing the subject. "Es, can you do something for me?"

"Sure, what do you need?"

"Heh. Can you go up to my bathroom sink?" I started climbing the steps. I'm so glad we got this new cordless phone. It's really handy.

"Ok, I'm here."

"Now, open up the cupboard on the left and look behind the towels." I pushed the stack aside and saw it sitting there: The Fantasy Basket.

"Carlisle, what are you…"

"There should be a pen and some little slips of paper in there that are blank. Can you take one of those, please?"

"Ok." I did as instructed with a snicker. "What should I write?"

"Ready?"

I nodded, distracted by erotic thoughts, and then realized I needed to speak aloud. "Yes."

"Please write, 'I want to hear you touch yourself.'"

My face grew hot and I let out a gasp. "Sweetheart!"

"You heard me. Now go put it on your sink, where I always leave them." I snorted in embarrassment. "Don't worry, I'll let you listen to me, too."

"Car…"

He cut me off and spoke really quickly, "Now, go put the boys to bed and call me back in a half hour. I'll be waiting. LoveYouBye." _Click_. He had hung up. There was no backing out. I shook my head and chuckled. _Guess I'll have to play along._

A half hour later I set the phone on the nightstand as I tossed the decorative pillows from our bed onto a chair and turned the covers down. I slid into the sheets and hit redial.

"Room 1252, please."

"Ma'am it's after 11 p.m. here, would you care to leave a message for that guest in our automated…"

"No, thank you. He's expecting my call." Boy, was he!

"Hello," he answered eagerly, his voice a little husky.

"Hi. Have I reached 976-HARD-STUDS?" He cleared his throat to cover a chuckle.

"That's right, Baby. What can I do for you tonight?" He played right along. "I hope you don't mind, I was just slipping into bed. Naked."

"Oh. Won't you get cold?"

"Not with you to keep me warm, Baby. What are you wearing?"

"The t-shirt you wore to bed before you left. It smells like you. Musky and masculine. Woodsy like your cologne. With a little hint of the antiseptic you use to scrub. I know you always try to wash that off, but it's part of you." I bent my nose over to my shoulder and took a deep sniff. "Mmm…"

We were on the phone for almost an hour, teasing each other, pleasing ourselves, doing what we could to not miss each other quite so much.

"Hurry home to me, Sweetheart. I'll be waiting."

**A/N**

Only one more 1990s Esme & Carlisle chapter.

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JEN

Twitter: JenEsmeFF


	20. Chapter 18, Bella: Anniversary

**The Fantasy Basket**

**By JenEsme**

**Inspired by Stephenie Meyers' Twilight series. No infringement intended.**

**Chapter 18—Bella: Anniversary**

**Posted 9/26/12**

September 2013

It was 10 pm and my husband still wasn't home. I sat on the couch folding a massive mountain of laundry—three loads, I think—while I watched Dancing With the Stars on Tivo and waited for him. He'd called a few hours ago to say goodnight to Riley, but jeez, he was really working late. It was like his residency all over again. Finally, I heard the rumble of the garage door and got up to greet him with a smile.

He looked exhausted as he walked through the door. "Hey."

"Hi," I replied. "Welcome ho-" Both of us looked down at the floor as we stepped in a mess at the same time.

"Jesus, Bella, is this SAND? All over the hardwood?" his tone was harsh. I squeezed my eyes shut, realizing that I'd meant to sweep that up hours ago.

"Sorry." I shook my head in frustration and swept my hair away from my face. "The twins were over here today and I took them all to the park."

"And you couldn't sweep it up? The broom's right here." It was leaning against the wall, where I'd left it this afternoon.

"Yes, I know. I got distracted." He gave me a sour look. "Edward, I couldn't even take two minutes to pee today without being interrupted." He rolled his eyes, stepped over the sand, and sunk into our 'talking couch,' rubbing his face in exhaustion.

"Bella, I just worked 15 hours straight. I need…"

"Yeah? Me too. And I'm still not done." I gestured toward the pile of laundry as I swept the sand into a pile.

He peeked out from behind his hands and let out a big breath. "Babe, I'm sorry." I looked at him with knit brows and a frown and nodded once, curtly before turning to reach for the dustpan. He stood and crossed the room back to me, took the dustpan from my hand, and knelt down to hold it in place while I swept the sand into it. He dumped it in the trash, put the broom away in the laundry room, and returned to envelop me in a hug, rocking me back and forth. "I'm sorry. We're both exhausted. Let's go to bed."

"I have to finish the laundry."

"Leave it," he insisted, shutting off the TV and lights, and guiding me by the hand to the stairs.

The next morning I got up early so we could eat breakfast together. We were both in a better frame of mind, so I thought it would be safe to confront him. "Edward, yesterday was three nights in a row that you weren't home before Riley went to bed. And you spent hardly any time at all with us when my dad and Sue were here last week. What's going on?" I was fearful that he was reverting right back to the way he used to be; that our blissful summer with attentive, sweet Edward was a thing of the past. "I'm not trying to bitch at you, I'm just… concerned."

I could tell he understood my meaning by the look on his face. "It's not like before, I swear. There's just a convergence of… god… _everything_ right now." He pulled at his hair and leaned his elbows on the table. "There's an overload of patients and we're on skeleton crew because half the group's away at a conference, plus I've got a bunch of deadlines for my research project. My grant renewal is due next week but our grant writer is out on maternity leave, and the _Journal of the AMA_ wants to do an article, which is great, but they need a write-up by the end of the month. Pffft!" He puffed out his cheeks in frustration.

"Is there anything I can help with?" His automatic response was to shake his head 'no,' almost rolling his eyes as he did so. _Oh, no you don't!_ I could sense the stressed out, negative version of him emerging, and refused to let that guy come between us again. "Edward, really?" I pressed. "Are you sure? I am a writer. And if not me, then what resources are available at work that you could offload some of this onto?"

He looked up at me and sighed, "Well, hmm," he thought for a moment. "I don't know, maybe you could proofread the grant renewal before I send it. If a single detail is overlooked on those things, the funding gets delayed, which would really screw up the project. I'm so fried right now I'm probably missing things. So… yes, that would help a lot, actually." It's not like my control freak husband to neglect a single detail, but I was glad he let me in and accepted my offer to help.

"Ok." I stood behind his chair and massaged his shoulders, trying to knead the tension from his knotted muscles.

"Mmmmm. That feels good." I leaned over and kissed the top of his head. The alarm on his phone buzzed away our moment of calm and he laid his head down on the table and groaned, "Ooohh, I don't wanna go. It's gonna be crazy like this for at least another week or two."

I crouched down next to his chair so that I was eye level with him. "Listen, do what you have to do until everyone's back, ok? No pressure from me for anything. Stay as long as you need to at the hospital to get everything done. Sleep over if that'll help. As long as this is a temporary situation, I understand. I'll just pretend you're a resident again."

"Ugh!"

"Don't feel obligated about Wednesday night, either… unless you think that would help." He gave me a sideways glance and smirked. "You'll get through this. All I ask is that you call once a day to check in before Riley goes to bed." I didn't even mention our anniversary on Friday. He didn't need more pressure.

He nodded in agreement, eyes closed in relief. "Thanks, Bell."

"Thank you for telling me what's going on; for not shutting me out." I held his face in my hands and kissed him. "Now, go! Get started so you can come home to us."

Edward stood, pulling me up along with him, hugged my head to his chest and nuzzled my hair. "I'm so lucky to have you. I love you." He walked into the family room and paused next to our son, crouching down to ruffle his hair. "Your mama is the best mama in the whole world, Ri-Bread!" He hugged him goodbye, cringing at the slobbery kiss Riley pressed to his cheek. "Hmm. We may have a future architect on our hands here." The baby giggled and knocked over the tower of blocks he'd been stacking with a crash.

"I love you, too. Now quit stalling." I handed him a travel mug of strong coffee and pushed him toward the garage, scooping Riley up and following Edward out so we could wave goodbye.

Edward was scarce the next week, but at least I knew what was going on, and I knew it wasn't permanent. Riley and I planned lots of play datesand outings so we wouldn't get lonely. We took dinner to Edward at the hospital a few times, which was a nice break for all of us. One afternoon as I was maneuvering backwards into the hospital elevator, trying not to tip the bags containing our meal while pulling the stroller one-handed over the bumpy threshhold, a hand jutted out to keep the door from closing.

"Thanks." I turned to find Leah Clearwater, looking tired and more frumpy than I'd ever seen her before. (Not that she could ever look frumpy. She certainly didn't look bad, but compared to her usual level of intimidating perfection, it was a surprise.) Leah wasn't hugely pregnant—her height compensated for that—but her face looked a little puffy, and her usually flawless hair and makeup were on a level with the rest of us mere mortals. She'd traded in her signature spiky shoes for a more modest heel and looked to be dressing more for comfort than for style.

"Looks like you've got your hands full there. Can I help?"

I tilted toward her so she could take the top bag off the stack in my arm, the one that nearly blocked my vision. That allowed me to adjust the strap of the diaper bag that was slipping off my shoulder, threatening to send it all tumbling. "Whew, that's better—thanks!"

"Wow, that's a lot to juggle. I don't know how you do it, Bella!"

"You'll learn," I promised. We spent the elevator ride and the walk to Edward's office chatting. She asked a lot of questions about pregnancy and motherhood, eager for reassurance from someone who'd been there. I remembered feeling alone and worried about all that was to come. I, too, had been the first of my friends and coworkers to get pregnant, and had no family nearby to ask for advice. So I answered her questions gladly, continuing the conversation even after Edward arrived to greet us. The role reversal was kind of nice. I'd always felt so self-conscious next to Dr. Clearwater—the sloppy stay-at-home-mom compared to the stylish, successful career woman—and now she was looking up to _me_, asking _me_ for advice and reassurance and guidance. _Huh_. Edward just smiled and looked on as I confidently answered her questions while unwrapping a home-cooked meal for my family. Leah eyed it enviously, thanked me, and left us to our tiny bit of family time.

…

"He is going to owe you, big-time." At playgroup, Jessica was dispensing advice after I confessed my exhaustion due to Edward's long hours. "You need to hire a babysitter and go on a shopping spree or something. You shouldn't have to work so long without a break!" Her self-centered comments used to shock me, until I met her husband Mike. He's exactly like her. I swear the two of them say "mine" more often than this whole gaggle of two-year-olds.

"Just ignore her. I do." Angela snickered into my ear. "How's Edward holding up?" she wondered, kindly.

"Oh, the poor guy. He's so stressed out. Luckily, there's a light at the end of the tunnel, though. He's finishing up some big projects this week, and several of his coworkers will be back from their conference next Monday, which should lighten the load."

"Well, I was going to offer to watch Riley for your anniversary, but if Edward's working so much, do you think he'll have time to take you out?"

"Thanks! I wanted to ask y…"

"Oh my gawd, Bella! He's going to miss your ANNIVERSARY?" Jessica shrieked. "That's just UNacceptable."

"Thanks, Jessica. I appreciate your concern," I answered, wryly. I really wished she would just shut up. "But it's not a big deal. He just took me on that cruise for my birthday. That was more than enough to celebrate both. It's fine." Jessica raised her eyebrows in disbelief. "Oh oh!" Riley was climbing too high on the play structure, so I dashed over to rescue him.

Wednesday night, Edward was sleeping over at the hospital in the "broom closet" which is what they jokingly called the small room that was available for the doctors to crash and get some rest. He called me to say goodnight.

"Hey, Babe, I miss you." He sounded so tired.

"I miss you, too. How was your day?" I curled up on the couch, eager to talk to him.

He sighed. "Long. Really long." His words were cut short with a yawn. "Excuse me."

"Poor baby… Are you getting any sleep at all?" I worried about him. He worked these kinds of hours as resident, but that was a few years ago. He had a lot more responsibilities weighing on his mind now.

"No. I'm going to try to lay down now for an hour or two. I just wanted to talk to you first. To hear your voice."

That made me smile. "Do you want me to read you a story? Do you need night-night tuck ins?" I joked, mimicking the way I put Riley to bed.

He chuckled. "Actually, I'd love to have you _tuck me in_. It is Wednesday, you know."

It took me a sec, but I gasped when I got what he was saying. "Edward!"

He laughed. "I'd probably fall asleep on you, though. Wouldn't _that_ be romantic?"

"Yeah, a real confidence booster." I giggled. "Maybe next week, huh?"

"Mmm. I'll make it up to you. I promise."

"You'd better, or Jessica will have your head. She's already sending me on a vengeful shopping spree for not getting a break from Riley. She's such a piece of work."

He groaned, "Oh, Bell. I'm sorry I've been working so much."

"Edward—it's ok. I didn't bring that up because _I_ felt that way! _You're_ the one who needs a break—you've been working so hard. Jessica was just being ridiculous, as usual." Her antics had been the subject of many conversations between us recently. _It's nice to be having conversations with him again, even if they're just gossip_.

"Well, you're going to get a break whether you want it or not. Tomorrow's our anniversary and you deserve to enjoy it."

"What? You planned something for our anniversary?" I was surprised. I was sure he'd been too busy to arrange anything.

"Of course! _I_ can't get away until dinnertime, but I want _you_ to enjoy it, all day." He didn't give me any details. He just told me to clear my schedule from noon onward and to expect lunch to come to me. The air of mystery was exciting, and I couldn't wait to find out what was up his sleeve.

Alice arrived at my door the next day, with garment bag and shoe box in hand. _Hmm_.

"Happy Anniversary, Bella! Here, go hang these in your car while I bring lunch in. Hey, Riley-boy, we are going to have SO much fun today! Wanna help me get lunch out of the car?"

"Auntie Awice come to pway?" Riley shouted, gleefully, while bouncing up and down.

"You betcha, Kiddo!" She took his little hand and they skipped out to her car.

Alice and I shared a delicious sushi lunch outside on our patio, while Riley munched on steamed veggies and yakitori from our favorite Japanese restaurant. The only thing missing was Edward.

"What's this?" I wondered as she pulled an elegantly wrapped box from under the table.

"It's from Edward. He stopped by Nordstrom the other day and asked me to give it to you along with the dress he picked out."

It was small and light as a feather. I slid my finger under the tape and tore the paper off, eagerly.

"Ouch—papercut!" I put my finger to my lips, shook my hand, and then inspected the cut closely. Nothing made it stop stinging, but at least it didn't bleed. I finished opening my present and found a handwritten note inside. Doctors usually have terrible handwriting, but Edward's elegant script looks like he came from an earlier time—all swirls and flourishes. I got him a Mont Blanc fountain pen for Christmas last year, which adds to the effect.

_My Darling Isabella,_

_Happy Anniversary. I'm sorry I can't be with you for most of our special day, but I can't wait to have you all to myself tonight. Until then, I hope an afternoon alone doing some of your favorite things will make you happy. Alice will watch Riley so that you can go to the spa, walk on the beach, or see any movie you want…the day is yours to enjoy as you wish._

_Meet me at our spot at Torrey Pines at sunset (6:58 pm), and we'll celebrate the night together. _

_I love you,_

_Edward_

I clutched the letter to my chest and sighed.

"What is it?" Alice wondered.

"It is the absolute perfect thing he could have done for me." I smiled and handed the note to Alice so she could read it for herself.

"That's really sweet, Bella." I could tell she didn't really appreciate how great an afternoon of complete independence would be for me. In a word, heavenly. _Just wait 'till she has kids. Then she'll understand._

"Well. Don't you worry at all about Riley. He and I have lots of fun things planned, and we want to get started, so you need to scoot," she grinned, leaning over to whisper something in his ear.

"Reawy?" he squealed at her suggestion. She nodded. "Bye, Mama. You go now. Me 'n Auntie Awice wanna…"

"Shh. Riley, don't tell Mommy. It's a secret special fun time just for you and me while she goes out to do boring mommy stuff."

"You go, Mama. Go do mommy stuff."

"Ok, Baby, I'll get going." I started to clear the food off the table.

"Bella, go on! I'll do this. Enjoy your free time."

She didn't need to ask twice. I strapped a car seat into her backseat in case she wanted to take him somewhere, and fifteen minutes later I was browsing the aisles of my favorite bookstore, sans stroller, sans sticky fingers, and sans interruption. It was wonderful. I could look for as long as I wanted to, without going near the garish children's book area. I picked up a novel I'd been wanting to read, parked myself in a comfortable arm chair with a fancy coffee drink, and lost myself in the characters and plot for a couple of hours.

After a few chapters, I got up to browse some more. I found a book for Edward by one of his favorite authors, and was struggling to find something romantic and "anniversary-ish" to no avail. I picked up a collection of beautiful romantic photographs and love poems, but scrunched my nose up and placed it back on the shelf. _He's not into poetry_. I gave up and decided to settle for the novel and a card, when I stopped in my tracks. The shelves I was walking past were marked "Human Sexuality." _Hmm_. Before the Fantasy Basket I would have walked right past this section, but today I decided to take a look. Some of the titles made me blush. I looked around, bashfully, to make sure no one was nearby as I peeked inside the covers of a few books. _Oh my!_

…

Thankfully, Alice had chosen flat shoes for me to wear with my dress for dinner. The footpath leading to "our" bench overlooking the beach was a bit of a hike. I spied Edward sitting there in a suit and tie as I approached. He had dark circles under his eyes but still looked glorious as he admired the view, ocean breeze ruffling his hair. I walked up behind him and wrapped my arms around his neck.

"Hi, Handsome," I whispered in his ear. "Come here often?"

He turned to face me with a big smile. "Only on very special occasions," he answered with a kiss. I rounded the bench and he pulled me to his lap. "You look beautiful. Did you have a nice day?"

We talked and talked as the sun set over the Pacific, catching up after weeks of hectic neglect and reminiscing about the years since we'd met. Edward brought a bottle of champagne, the same kind we shared when he proposed at this very spot. We toasted to our years of marriage and wished for many more happy years together, grateful for the strides we had taken in the last few months. Hand in hand, he led me back down the path at twilight and onward to a romantic dinner and a brighter future. Together.

"I had so much fun at the bookstore today," I admitted as we prepared for bed. "Here, I got you something while I was there."

Edward was excited about the novel. "This is great. I can't wait to read something non-work related! Thanks, Babe." He pecked me on the lips on his way to hang his suit in the closet. As he emerged, I leaned against my sink and faced him as he brushed his teeth.

"There's another book, too."

"Oh, really, I thought this was his latest one," he mumbled through a mouth full of toothpaste.

"No, this is a _different_ book. It's a little… older."

"A classic, huh? What is it?" He rinsed and spit as I dug the book out of the paper bag.

I looked down and took a deep breath, trying to gather my courage as I held out _The Illustrated Kama Sutra_.

His eyebrows lifted and he snorted as he flipped through the pages. "Wow! What exactly were you doing at the bookstore today, Bella?"

I flushed and huffed in embarrassment. "Fine, I'll take it back."

"No way, I'm just teasing you, Babe. This actually looks like some fascinating reading. Hmmm…" He scratched his chin, mockingly, and flipped through the book, a big grin on his face.

While he was distracted with it, I strutted toward him and purred, "I also took the liberty of choosing this for tonight." I handed him a Fantasy Basket card with nothing but a page number on it. Moving only his eyes, he shifted his gaze from the card to my eyes to the book and started fanning the pages under his thumb, stopping on the designated page. He peered back at me and smiled before glancing down at the page, and the position I'd requested for tonight. They widened. His eyebrows shot up. He sucked in a quick, deep breath through his nose. His smile erupted into an embarrassed grin. He turned his head sideways and squinted his eyes to look at the picture from a different angle, teasing me. "INteresting…" He slid the card into the pages, bookmarking the position I'd selected for tonight, and flipped through the book some more, perusing the photos of other positions. He paused at one and I could see his face get a little pink as his adam's apple bobbed with a swallow.

"Did you find one that _you_ like?"

He looked at me and smiled, bashfully. "Could we try this one next time?" He turned the book toward me and I giggled, embarrassed and aroused by the graphic photograph.

"Why wait?" I asked, sliding the fantasy card out from its previous page to mark Edward's choice before I closed the book and tossed it aside. I ran my hands slowly up his chest, following closely with my eyes so that I could drink in every inch of him. When I reached his shoulders, my hands made a u-turn down his arms and my eyes continued up his face until I reached his eyes and leaned in to give him a single, slow kiss. I clasped his hands in mine and walked backwards, pulling Edward into the sitting room. "This may help." I released his hands, slid the silk robe I wore from my shoulders, revealing my naked body, and aligned myself on the curves of our new chair in the position he'd chosen from the book. I spread my body for him, inviting him, and reached my hand toward him, beckoning him to me. He hesitated for the briefest moment, a furrow crossing his brow, before taking my hand and joining me, giving up on his fight about the chair, giving in to his desires. We'd argued about this chair. Incessantly.

I had recognized the chair from the Passonista catalog almost immediately when Esme surprised us with our fully decorated bedroom suite. Edward was unaware of what it was—he just thought it looked out of place—until he got a message from his brother.

_ Did Ma get you the sex chair, too? Lotsa fun! ;) _

Edward had turned red in the face—a combination of embarrassment and anger.

"What the hell, Bella? Did you know about this?" He'd started ranting about his mother intruding into our love life and my concession to her unwelcome attention.

I opened the cabinet in my bedside table, where I kept a box of … um… private things, and grabbed the catalog from Alice's party. "Remember that thing that your mom and I went to at Alice's after Riley's birthday?"

"Yes, I suppose," he grumbled.

"Did you end up asking your dad what kind of party it was?"

"I asked, but he kind of laughed it off. He said you had a good sense of humor and left it at that."

I rolled my eyes—_thanks, Carlisle_—and dropped the catalog onto his lap. "It was a lingerie and sex toy party, Edward. That's where the Fantasy Basket came from." (Heaven forbid he ever found out that the Fantasy Basket was her idea.) "And that must be where she got us this chair." I sat next to him and flipped through the catalog to the page showing the chair, complete with models demonstrating some of the many ways it could be used.

His eyes had narrowed to slits as he silently scowled and leafed through the pages. With a look of disgust, he tossed the catalog on the ottoman and backed away from it, nervously tugging at his hair.

I lost my patience. "Oh, Edward, GROW UP!" That got his attention. He looked at me with wide eyes. "Why do you have such a problem with this?"

I took a deep breath to calm myself down. "Listen, I'm sorry, but this… overreaction you have to your parents' supposed 'intrusion' into our relationship has got to stop." He started to object, but I cut him off.

"Just listen to me, Edward, please?" He looked at his hands and squirmed, but stopped interrupting so that I could continue. "I was horrified to go to that party with your mom. It was so embarrassing and kind of creepy to think about." He raised his eyebrows and nodded in an 'I told you so' kind of way. "But," I held my index finger up to keep him quiet. "She said on the way in, 'You need to forget that we're related right now and just think of me as a friend.' I didn't get it at first Edward, but it helped. When I thought of her as just 'Esme, that really cool, really sweet lady who has an amazing relationship with her husband' instead of as 'Edward's mom,' when I made that switch in my mind, it was so much easier to relax and to really relate to her. Edward, you're not a teenager anymore. You're married. You have a baby who looks exactly like you. She knows you have sex, and she's ok with that. She doesn't want to hear any details, but she wants us to be happy and fulfilled like she and your dad are. I know it's hard to make that transition from child to adult when it comes to your parents, but your relationship with them has GOT to change, just a little. You need to start thinking of them and us as adults—as people or friends—and let go of the way you thought of them as a kid."

"It's not that simple," he mumbled.

"I know it's uncomfortable and it's hard and it goes against what you were taught growing up, but you know what, Edward? I need you to do it for me. For us. I hate fighting every time they visit, and I feel like this… _inhibition_ of yours is coming between us. I want to be open and honest with you but I can't be when I have to tiptoe around this subject to keep from setting you off."

He looked up into my eyes, so dejected, sorry that he made me feel that way.

I raised my eyebrows and nodded in confirmation.

He sighed and rubbed his face with his hands, sinking back into the couch. "Argh! I hate… You're right, my parents are great. I just… Remember when I told you about Jayne?"

My eyes snapped to his, surprised and a little anxious to hear what he had to say about her. "Jayne, your stalker ex-girlfriend who wanted you to be a plastic surgeon, Jayne?"

He snorted, "Yeah… her." He rolled his eyes.

I cocked my head, waiting for him to tell the story. He told me about taking her home to meet his family for Thanksgiving. I swallowed an irrational lump of jealousy that lodged in my throat. They were sophomores at Stanford, but he was only 18—young and impressionable, and completely enamored with the older, more experienced girl who took a liking to him. The first night of their visit, Jayne left the guest room late at night and snuck into Edward's bed, waking him in a way he tactfully would not divulge to me. She ravaged him despite protests that his parents might hear and that he didn't want to disregard their wishes for he and Jayne to stay in separate rooms. It didn't take much to get him to give in—he was an 18 year old boy, after all. The look his mother gave him the next morning, however, full of disapproval and disappointment, shamed him.

Jayne was uncharacteristically friendly and open with his parents, asking very personal questions and hinting at private interactions. At first his mom answered openly and honestly, just as she always does with me, but as Jayne's conversations and mannerisms grew less playful and increasingly inappropriate and lewd, Esme grew upset and tight-lipped. His father even asked Edward privately if she'd been sexually abused, since her words and actions showed the aggression typical of victims.

A few nights after their first encounter in Edward's room, Jayne snuck in again, taking advantage of her young lover despite his objections. In the throes of passion, she mistakenly called him by his father's name, deflating his ego and his erection instantaneously. He was humiliated and furious. She tried to explain away her mistake, claiming to have overheard his parents 'f-ing each other's brains out,' which turned her on. He was horrified. It was a Tuesday, so he didn't doubt that she had heard what she claimed, but he was embarrassed about it and appalled at her reaction.

He bounced back and the weeklong visit dragged on, uncomfortably. His parents' dislike for Jayne grew each day, culminating in a warning to their besotted son that she was no good for him. Later, back at school, it slipped out that she'd overheard his parents both times she had joined him in his room. She also made comments about his parents, both privately and in conversations with their friends that made him begin to regret and eventually curse his parents' openness, both physically and in their early conversations with Jayne.

"So she admitted in front of your friends that she had the hots for your dad, she blabbed about private matters that were meant to help the two of you, and then she somehow twisted your teenaged brain into believing that the shame and discomfort you felt about her words and actions were your _parents'_ fault? Am I getting this right?"

"God, it sounds so stupid when you put it that way, but I guess that's basically right."

"That's messed up, Edward. She sounds like a psycho."

"I know. I was just too young and foolish to realize it. Everyone tried to tell me but…"

"But you stayed with her for… how much longer was it?"

"A year," he answered, glumly.

I bit back the urge to criticize him when I saw the tortured look of self-loathing on his face. "Hey," I said softly, lacing my fingers through his and squeezing our palms together. "I am so glad you had the strength and the courage to remove yourself from her. She stalked you, she intimidated you, she emotionally abused you, and from what you said tonight, it sounds like she…" I shifted uncomfortably. "Well, 'No' means 'No' for guys, too, Edward. It sounds like she took liberties she had no right to take."

He turned toward me, shocked, when I said that. "God, you make me sound so weak," he complained.

"No, Edward. You were a physically beautiful," I ran my fingers through the hair at his temple, "intellectually brilliant," I rested my hand on his cheek, "but socially immature 18 year old boy." I added my other hand, cupping his face tenderly, "You were set loose among older kids in a high-pressure environment. You were vulnerable and naïve. You were attracted by her maturity and sexual prowess. And she was a predator who took advantage of that. You have nothing to be ashamed of." I gave him a peck on the lips. "But you do need to kick her out of your head once and for all." He looked at me questioningly. I moved my hands to his shoulders and looked him intently in the eyes. "She is still controlling the attitude you have about your parents. You need to purge that—let it go."

"That's easier said than done."

"I'm sure it is. It might help to talk to someone about it."

He snorted. "You think I need to go to a psychologist?"

"It's been ten years. It's affecting your relationships with the people who are closest to you. Maybe a neutral party could help you sort things out." Edward's face fell. His shoulders slumped. "Or you could try talking to your mom." A look of sheer panic took over his face. "Edward, you've got to do something."

He hugged me against his chest. "I know. I'll try."

And try he did. He met with a counselor. He'd only been to one session so far, but he was starting to sort things out and come to terms with his past already. For my part, I agreed to be a little more thoughtful of Edward's feelings when sharing with his mom.

So playing out our anniversary fantasy on the Passionista chair was a big step. The chair was highly symbolic for each of us, and highly contentious. To Edward, it embodied his perception of his mother treading too closely to our private lives. To me, it represented the newfound freedom and openness she'd taught me about that had helped our marriage already.

We celebrated our marriage in the position he chose, in the one I chose, and in another that we chose together. By the time the clock read 12:00, marking the end of our anniversary, he'd replaced any trepidation he'd felt about who bought us the chair with the joy and pleasure of using it.

The next morning, I noticed that some things were different around the house. I was surprised to see vacuum lines on the carpet and surmised that Alice must have cleaned up a mess that Riley made. But when I walked into the downstairs bathroom, I became perplexed. A sparkling, splatter-free reflection peered back at me. The grey remnants of Riley's latest obsession—his magical power over light and darkness—had been wiped clean from the switch plate. And then I noticed the telltale clue: a puddle of blue swirling in the sparkling toilet bowl.

"Hey, Edward, you didn't ask Alice to clean up the house while she was here yesterday, did you?" Surely he wouldn't ask her to do that. Watching Riley was enough of an imposition. She always needs to be busy, though. Maybe she cleaned during Riley's nap because she was bored or something.

"No, not Alice." He had a devious look on his face as I joined him in the kitchen. Wow—the sink was shiny-clean. I know I didn't leave it like that.

"Well, YOU didn't come home and clean it up, did you?" I was feeling confused and getting frustrated. _Who touched my house?_

He chuckled and pulled a business card out of his wallet and handed it to me. "Happy Anniversary, Bell. I got you this, too." I looked at the card. "She'll come every Friday afternoon." The card read, 'Maggie's Housekeeping Service.'

"Really?" I squealed. I jumped up into Edward's arms and he lifted my feet off the ground. "Thank you, thank you, thank you!" I showered his face with kisses and he rocked me back and forth so my feet swung like a pendulum. "Oh, this is so awesome! YOU are the greatest husband, EVER!"

"Wow," he exclaimed, "If I'd known you'd react this way, we could've hired someone a long time ago! I was worried that you'd think I was criticizing you." He set me back on my feet.

"Are you kidding?" I enthused, "I'm just so happy to get some help!"

"Well, good! It may only be temporary, though." He looked excited, or proud, or… I don't know, but it certainly didn't reflect my feeling about what he'd said. My heart had sunk, and I looked down, trying to hide my disappointment. He backed us both onto the couch and took a second business card from his wallet, this one for a realtor. My eyes grew wide with curiosity when he handed it to me. My mind was racing, trying to figure out what he was doing. "Bella, I realize now that I kind of bullied you into this house," he explained. "You were right when you called me out on thinking more about the opinions of people who _don't_ live here than those of the people who do. I'm really sorry I didn't give _your_ feelings and _your_ concerns more consideration when we were looking for a new place and I want to fix that if I can." He took a deep breath. "You need to live in a place that you… that you _love_, a place where you feel comfortable and happy, somewhere that you like the neighbors and feel at home, especially since you're here a lot more than I am. So I want you to give Barbara a call and have her help you find a house that _you_ want, and we'll move." He gave his shoulders a little shrug as if moving was no big deal.

My mouth dropped open. I was dumbfounded. This _was_ a big deal. We'd put so much time and money into the yard and the pool and the decorating and furnishing of this place. I was finally feeling acclimated to the community. I'd just found a hairdresser I liked nearby so that I didn't have to drive across town to the one near our condo anymore. I was starting to make friends. "But we just…" I started to object, but Edward shook his head as if none of that mattered to him. "You love this place," I insisted.

"I love you more." He kissed me tenderly. "I want you to be happy."

I looked into his eyes and huffed out a breath in disbelief, eyebrows knit. I could see that he was firm in his decision, resolute. I looked down for a moment, considering what he'd said. As I glanced between the two business cards in my hands, my gaze landed on one of them. Looking back up at my husband, I said, "Thank you, Edward. Wow. It means the world to me that you would… drop _everything_ for _me_. Thank you." I smiled and held the chosen card up toward him. "But I choose this one." It was Maggie's Housekeeping Service. "This place is kinda growin' on me."

He grinned, obviously happy with my decision. "You sure?"

"Well, I do have one condition."

"What's that?"

"The chair stays." I leaned back, folding my arms across my chest. "Don't hate the chair. Or we're outta here."

Edward laughed out loud. "You drive a hard bargain, lady!"

"Take it or leave it. It's my final offer." I held both cards in front of him and he snatched one from my fingers before I could change my mind.

"Maggie it is, then."

"And the chair."

"Yes, and the chair," he snickered.

I placed my hand tenderly on my husband's cheek. "Seriously though, thank you Superman. I'm so glad I married you." He smiled and nodded as I heard Riley calling for me.

We spent a nice, quiet weekend at home—just the three of us. I enjoyed hanging out and playing with my guys instead of spending hours on chores. Edward caught up on his sleep and I went over his grant renewal and the first draft of his journal article with my red editor's pen. It felt good to immerse myself in a writing and editing project again. I'd missed that kind of mental stimulation since I'd had the baby. The information was very technical, but I was able to glean a lot about Edward's research. The work he and his team are doing is very impressive. Their goals are admirable. Reading through his work and reviewing it with him helped me understand just why he has won awards and been invited to present at conferences, why Carlisle was so proud of him on their visit last spring. I'm proud of him, too.

And I'm happy. Truly happy.

**A/N**

One more Bella & Edward chapter. It may take a little while. It's not quite where it needs to be, and I have some busy weekends coming up.

Besotted … Thanks. You always know just what to add and what to subtract to make it equal the best it can be.

Thanks for reading! Please review.

JEN

Twitter: JenEsmeFF


	21. Chapter 19, Esme: 40th Birthday

**The Fantasy Basket**

**By JenEsme**

**Inspired by Stephenie Meyers' Twilight series. No infringement intended.**

**Chapter 19—Esme: Birthday & New Business**

**Posted 10/17/12**

1991-1992

That fall was a whirlwind. Between increasing responsibilities at Cullen-O'Leary, the research project that Carlisle added onto his already-hectic schedule, and all of the school, sports, and scouts obligations the boys had, we didn't have a moment to spare. I grew to appreciate Carlisle's dependence on his day planner, and I adopted one myself. The wall calendar wouldn't cut it anymore. I needed something to take on client or vendor visits. Date nights with Carlisle were the first thing I wrote in—in pen. With all that we had going on, it would have been very easy to fall back into our old, neglectful patterns, but we didn't. Both of us made a concerted effort to put each other first. To give our relationship top priority.

The Russells' housewarming party was a big success. Kate loved showing off all the remodeling and decorating that we'd done, and her guests were duly impressed. Once everyone had arrived Carlisle stood on the stairs, a few steps above the crowd, to propose a toast. It was typical for one of the management team to kick off their doctor parties this way, so Carlisle raised his glass and called for everyone's attention.

"Kate," he began, "Dr. Russell, thank you for inviting all of us into your new home tonight. It certainly is a place of beauty, but I hope that it will also become a place of joy. May you find comfort and happiness here together and make many wonderful memories for years to come. On this Labor Day, I'm reminded that what we do, the commitment we make to our patients, can put a lot of pressure on our spouses and our home lives, so here's to all of the spouses and children for putting up with us and giving us something worth coming home to. " He raised his glass and led everyone in the toast. Then Garrett climbed up next to him on the steps.

"Thank you Dr. Cullen. We love our new house and we're so happy to have you all here to celebrate the fact that all the remodeling and decorating is done, but what you see here would not have been possible without your lovely wife. I think she deserves a toast as well."

"What, did they swap or something?" I heard Victoria snicker to someone behind me. I just focused on Carlisle and Garrett and tried to ignore her.

"Ah, yes, my wife. Thank you Dr. Russell." He took a deep breath and looked at me lovingly, despite being surrounded by his colleagues. "Here's to Esme, the most beautiful woman I've ever known. She epitomizes charm and grace, inside and out. Everything she touches is lovely." A tear sparkled in my eye as I looked up at him. "I'm a lucky man to come home to a warm and inviting home every night, a home that she created for me. And she has helped Kate and Garrett enjoy that pleasure as well." He turned his focus away from me and toward the crowd. I smiled. _He's proud of me._ "Esme has decided to share a bit herself—to bring the beauty and comfort that I feel in my own home to others in their homes as well. She recently joined forces with the indomitable Siobhan O'Leary to create Cullen O'Leary Interior Design and Fine Art Consulting. The house we're standing in was her first project, and I think we'll all agree that she did a fantastic job. May Esme's beauty grace many, many homes throughout Seattle. Good luck, my love."

"To Esme!" Garrett chimed in as he raised his glass. I smiled at Carlisle and my face grew hot as friends and co-workers turned to congratulate me and ask all about my new venture. I hated taking the focus off of Kate and Garrett at their own party, but the attention was very flattering, and they didn't seem to mind at all. I was happy to have the new business cards Siobhan had had the foresight to order, and distributed several.

Victoria approached, sneering. "So, you're working with Siobhan, huh?"

"I am. In fact, your name came up as a mutual acquaintance the day I met her, so I suppose I should thank you. It's no wife swap," I joked, facetiously, "but so far we've had a lot of fun."

She snorted. "Well, more power to you if you can get along with that one. I found her to have a very… big personality."

"Yes, well… It's funny, she said almost the same thing about you. I saw pictures of the work she did in your home, though. It did turn out beautifully, even if the two of you didn't really connect. I'm sure you and Dr. Hunter are very happy living in those surroundings."

She scowled at me as I excused myself to chat with some other well-wishers. That took me aback. I'd been trying to be nice and make amends. I wondered what her problem was, and chalked it up to her negative personality and general nastiness, until about an hour later when the gossip mongers had had a few drinks and revealed that Dr. Hunter had moved out and was in the process of filing for a divorce. Part of me wanted to gloat, but deep down, the demise of any marriage is a sad thing, and since her life revolved solely around being a _doctor's wife_, she would really be up a creek with no paddle_. _Then again, I wasn't about to console her after the way she'd treated Carlisle and me. _Maybe there is such a thing as karma_.

…

Soon, Thanksgiving was upon us and Christmas loomed. Carlisle grew more and more despondent about the disconnect from his parents and his church. It wasn't in his nature to hold a grudge against anyone, especially someone as important as his mother. But he stuck by me, attending our new church and calling his parents once or twice a week, trying to reach out. I doubt that he had ever considered that his mother would dig in her heels like this, that this would have become such a battle. To see her in this light—as someone who was unrepentant, unforgiving—was counter to what he was raised to believe, and I could tell that it broke his heart to realize such a flaw in his own parent.

We did see Ed regularly. He attended many of Emmett's football games and Edward's soccer games and he joined us for dinner every Tuesday while Betty led the women's ministry meetings. And my own granny surrounded us with her special bubble of joy and enthusiasm whenever she could, though she was slowing down a bit as she reached her 80s. But Betty continued to be difficult. She was warm to the boys and would speak to Carlisle briefly, but she never owned up to the hurtful way she had treated me for so many years. And Carlisle stayed true to me, no matter how painful. It made me love him even more

The boys were starting to wonder what was going on, asking why they never saw Grandma anymore and why they couldn't go back to their old Sunday school. (However, I believe the primary motivators were the snacks served between the two services: Trinity had donuts and hot chocolate, and the new church only served an artificial orange drink that I swear was Tang. I didn't know they even made Tang anymore. My granny used to give me that for breakfast, calling it 'orange juice.' _Blech!) _It was getting harder and harder to justify Betty's absence to our children. We didn't want to lie or badmouth her, and she did talk to them, so they knew she wasn't ill. One day I overheard Emmett on the phone begging her to come to the kids' Christmas play at the new church.

"Gramma, it's really cool. I got a SOLO! I get to sing a Christmas rap song and my costume is all grunge style with a flannel shirt and a baseball cap and everything. You gotta come, Grams, it's rad! Plus, Eddie and me want to go to you and Grandpa's church for Christmas Eve, 'cause they don't do the candle thing at the new place."

Bless his little heart. At dinner that night, Emmett announced that Grandma Cullen had promised to attend the Christmas program. I looked across at Carlisle and raised my eyebrows, cautiously wondering, _She won't let Emmett down, will she?_ He shrugged his shoulders and told Emmett he'd call Grandma with the dates and times of his performances.

Two weeks later, squeezed into a tight row of folding metal chairs at our church that met in the multi-purpose room of an elementary school, Carlisle craned his neck, seeking his parents, as Granny and I spread purses and jackets on the two extra seats we saved for them. Suddenly, they appeared, Ed excusing them as they maneuvered past us to the waiting seats. Betty bumped into my knees and muttered, "Sorry."

I nodded and wondered wryly if I'd ever hear that word from her about the truly important things.

The kids were thrilled to have all five of us fans in the audience. Emmett aced all the words of his rap, which made Carlisle and me proud, even if his grandparents didn't quite approve of such a modern way to present the Christmas story.

Afterwards, we enjoyed Christmas cookies and coffee while the kids changed out of their costumes backstage. After a few moments of awkward silence, I was relieved that Granny broke the ice with Betty, making small talk about her preparations for Christmas and other such things. The kids helped break through the tension even more when they joined us, excited and enthusiastic about the show.

We were treated to a recap of all the fumbles and backstage shenanigans as we sat together in a kid-friendly restaurant for dinner. It was lively and fun, despite the elephant in the room that all the adults were avoiding. After the waitress refilled our coffees and Carlisle paid the check, Granny asked the boys if they would show her how to play some of the arcade games that we'd passed on our way into the restaurant. Carlisle slipped her a ten dollar bill to buy quarters as she gave my shoulder a reassuring squeeze. My nerves were on edge.

Carlisle began, "Mother, I'm really glad you could make it today. It meant a lot to the boys… to all of us." I nodded in agreement, my hand clutched to Carlisle's under the tablecloth, but she avoided making eye contact with me. "It's really nice to have our whole family together again."

"I thought I wasn't your family anymore," she huffed.

"Betty!" Ed warned.

Carlisle tilted his head to the side, sadly, "Mother, you know what I meant by that. There are only seven of us, Mom." She raised her eyebrows, disapproving of his use of the nickname. "All of our living relations fit around one dinner table." He gestured around the table with his hand. "And we need to be there for each other. It kills me that the two most important women in my life can't…"

"I don't know that I'd consider _Granny_ to be part of _my_ family…" _Bitch!_

"Well, that's the heart of the problem, isn't it, Mother?" he asked, lowering his voice to that seething fight-mode. "You still see us as just the three. What did you expect me to do, stay 23 forever? Come back after med school and live in my little room, sleep in my twin bed, staring at the anatomy posters on my walls, wishing for a _real_ girl? For what—so you'd have me around to get things off the top shelf and open tight jars and light all those damn candles week after week?"

"Carlisle, that's enough! You show some respect!" Betty spat.

He let out a scoffing laugh, "Respect? I worshipped the ground you walked on for forty years, Mom, to the detriment of my own wife, the love of my life, the mother of my children. Why should I…"

I covered his mouth with my hand and turned in the booth to face him before he could do more damage to his already shaky relationship. "Carlisle, stop! Just stop, before you say something you'll regret." I could feel the anger rolling off of him, and waited, ignoring his parents, running my hands along his neck and shoulders to soothe him until he'd calmed down a bit. "Ok? Are you done?" He blinked slowly and nodded. "Shhh." I warned him with a finger to his lips.

I faced my mother-in-law, moved the coffee cup and spare silverware aside so that I could rest my forearms on the table, gripping my hands together, and took a deep breath. I looked into her cold blue eyes, the same blue as my husband's, yet so very different, and gathered my courage to speak. "I don't know what I did—whether it was six months ago or twenty years ago—to make you disapprove of me. Whatever it is, I'm sorry!"

"You corrupted him. You lived in sin!"

"Mother, we were engaged. We got married seven months later. And for the record, _I_ asked _her_ to move in together. _She_ was the one who was concerned about _your_ feelings."

I put my hand on his knee and shook my head faintly, urging him to stop before his emotional responses did irreparable harm to his relationship with his folks.

"In spite of some reckless decisions we made as kids, you raised a very good son. He's… the best kind of man. And he chose _me_ to share his life with. I know he found me when he was very young, and that was probably difficult for both of you. You've made it quite clear that you never approved of his decision, and I've watched him for all these years being pulled in two directions, struggling to choose where to put his loyalty. I stepped aside for a lot of years and let him choose you. I don't have any parents, and I never wanted to do anything to jeopardize my husband's relationship with his. But it hurt. A lot. Occasionally it became too much to take, wondering why I wasn't good enough for you—or… not good enough for him in your eyes. And the last time that happened, he decided, despite my objections, to pick a side. He chose me," I whispered, my voice quavering. "Even at the risk of losing you." I looked up into her eyes. "And ever since then, _he's_ been the one in pain."

"Es…" Carlisle wrapped his arm around my shoulders and tipped his forehead against the side of my head and I reached up to cradle his cheek. His parents shifted uncomfortably at this show of affection.

"All he wants is for you to accept me. Right?" I turned my face toward his slightly and he nodded, lifting his head to look at them directly. I leaned forward on the table to beg, earnestly. "I know that we'll never be good friends. That's something I gave up hoping for a long time ago. But if you could see it in your heart to just be civil, to just tolerate me without…"

Carlisle continued, "… without the underhanded, passive-aggressive comments, without the snide remarks to your friends, without all the criticism…"

I put my hand over his to get him to stop. "Anyway… If you can play nice, then Carlisle can have us both and he can be happy. I think that's what you and I both want for him, right?"

Betty took a deep breath and sat up straighter, but before she had a chance to speak, the boys returned, full of energy and excitement about their time in the arcade. Granny trailed in slowly behind them as Emmett told us about getting the high score and being able to put his initials into one of the games, and Edward teased his brother about showing off in front of a couple of girls who had been there. Carlisle jumped up to offer his arm to Granny as she wobbled up the three stairs that led to the level where our table sat.

"Just you wait, Eddie-Bear. Someday it'll be you trying to impress the girls. It's just part of growing up." I tapped the tip of his cute little nose with my finger and slid out of the booth. It was time to go home.

As we approached our separate cars, Carlisle helped Granny get seated in the front seat and called across the roof of his black Mercedes to his parents, "You'll let me know about Christmas Eve? We'd all hate to miss the candle ceremony." He closed the passenger door and put his arm around me.

Betty looked at her son with a twinge of remorse. "Please come," she pleaded. "All of you." Her eyes darted to me and then back to Carlisle. "I'm sorry," she whispered, barely audible from the adjacent parking space, and then ducked into their Toyota. I felt Carlisle freeze and squeezed him with the arm I held around his waist. With a hint of a smile, he kissed me and lent a hand as I folded myself into the back seat next to Edward.

Christmas Eve found the whole Cullen family back at Trinity. There was some awkward tension but also some joy and forgiveness. As Betty lit my candle with hers and I passed the flame on to Carlisle while the congregation sang Silent Night around the outdoor courtyard, I knew that things would be all right. I would never have the warm, loving relationship with my mother-in-law that had been an orphan's girlhood dream, but we'd be ok, and neither Carlisle nor Ed would feel the tug to choose between two members of our small family ever again.

A year later, I thanked God for that reconciliation, since Betty was no longer with us. She suffered a debilitating stroke the following October, and a second one that she didn't survive, 12 days before Christmas 1992.

After making peace with Carlisle's family, we were able to enjoy a wonderful Christmas Day. Emmett's tastes had changed from toys to electronics and music, so he spent the day listening to his new CD-Walkman. I don't think Granny realized what kind of music Nirvana played when she bought him their album, and was very glad for the headphones. Edward was pleased with the video games that Santa brought him and the huge volume of Gray's Anatomy from Carlisle. My husband was excited about his gift certificate for a ride with a flight instructor, where he would be able to take the controls of a small plane himself. Garrett had suggested that to me, after taking Carlisle up in his plane a few times.

I was a little worried about the Fantasy Basket. We'd used up all the fantasies, but I didn't want our Tuesday nights to end or our love life to go back to boring. My solution was to don my Mrs. Claus outfit with the fun, fluffy, marabou trim, buy him some new silky underwear, and approach him with two pens, two note pads, and the empty basket on Christmas night. We each wrote down our favorites from the previous year as well as some new things we wanted to try, and filled the basket back up for a new year of fun. As we reminisced, we got pretty excited, and decided a reprise of the original Santa fantasy would be a perfect way to start off the Fantasy Basket 1992.

As I sat writing in my journal on New Year's Eve, I was pleasantly surprised to realize that most of the goals I'd written for 1991 had come true. It had been a year of great change and growth. My 1992 goals focused primarily on my new business with Siobhan. Several friends and co-workers had hired me for projects in their homes—none as extensive as the complete remodel we'd done for Kate, but that was fine. And through word of mouth and referrals from happy clients, the business continued to grow. I hoped to achieve my certification from NCIDQ and membership in the ASID and IDCW (the various state and national trade associations for interior design) and continue to learn and grow in my new field. In front of all the other goals and desires for the new year was, of course, my top priority: Carlisle. I would never again let our relationship fall into a state of neglect. We were having way too much fun together now to ever go back to the bad times!

1992 was going great. Emmett loved middle school. He was quite the big man on campus, winning a place on the student council and participating in several clubs. Edward was adjusting well after skipping a grade. He was challenged by his studies, and came home eager to do his homework and extra reading every night. If I hadn't given birth to him myself, I would have sworn he wasn't mine! He definitely took after his father in academics. And he had not gotten into any fights at all that school year which was quite a relief. Carlisle was glad to have his pet research project to work on, since his ascent into management left little time to do much of the actual hands-on doctoring that he loved. Progress was very, very slow, but he knew that each tiny step, each little discovery, would eventually lead to a solution that would save lives.

Siobhan and I granted Laurent with our business again in March. She had a client who wanted sit-downs with the top five galleries in Seattle and Laurent's was number one on the client's researched list. We obliged, but insisted that our interactions with his gallery be handled by Laurent himself—'no bimbos,' as Siobhan so delicately put it. (Kebi had already been replaced by another young clone of Tia.) Losing out on that job had been a blessing in disguise.

With Siobhan, I was learning new things and meeting new people and my relationship with her—both as a friend and as a mentor—was rich and challenging. I loved learning so many new things. _Hmm, maybe I was more like Edward than I realized!_

I ran into a lot of old friends and acquaintances through my job as well. One day, while looking at granite slabs in a dusty rock yard, I heard someone calling my name.

"Esme Platt, is that you?"

"It's actually Cullen now, but…" I turned to face the person who had called out to me, and was stunned to see Maria, the cheerleader from high school.

"Oh, that's right, I remember your gorgeous doctor husband from the reunion. What was that, two or three years ago? God, I was so drunk! Are you still with him?"

I was taken aback at the question. "Of course! Next month will be our 17th anniversary."

"Oh my god! No way! How do you do that? I just filed for my second divorce. We didn't make it 17 _months_." Her face fell slightly before she resumed her perky cheerleader persona. She shook her hands in front of her as if to erase the thought, "Anyway, we don't need to go _there_, that's for sure! Can I help you with anything?"

"I'm looking for some granite for a client's kitchen remodel…" I opened my planner to get the dimensions and color preferences we needed, and handed Maria a business card as we perused the selection of stone.

Her eyes grew wide when she saw the name. "You work with Siobhan O'Leary?" I nodded the affirmative. "Wow. She's the best." I looked at the photos on her desk as she called some information up on the computer for me. There was an adorable newborn baby and two older, elementary-aged kids who must have been from her first marriage.

I smiled. "She's taught me a lot. And she's a good friend. Speaking of which," I checked my watch. "I need to go meet her. She's treating me to lunch since my birthday is tomorrow."

"Oh, happy birthday! I won't say how old we are. You don't look a day over 26," she said with a wink. "Here are the lot numbers for the slabs that you liked. If you call before you come in with your client, we can pull those up front to the display area. It's a little nicer viewing up there."

"Thanks, Maria."

I stood to leave and before my hand left her desk, she grasped me around the wrist for a moment. "Esme, it's really nice to see you again. I… I know we didn't get along very well in high school. That was my fault—entirely." She rolled her eyes at the memory of her earlier self. "But I'm really glad to see that your life has turned out so well. I hope you're really happy."

"I am. Thank you." I put my hand on her shoulder, "I hope you're happy, too." I nodded toward the photos, "They're beautiful."

She bit her lips together, knitted her brow, and nodded slightly, looking down at her desk, "Thanks."

I decided to bring my client in to that rock yard. Maria could probably use the commission… and the forgiveness.

The next morning I woke to the sound of clattering pans and arguing children. I cracked one eye open to check the clock: 5:30. Ugh!

Carlisle bent over me to place a kiss on my forehead. He had just come in from a run and was all sweaty. "Just to warn you, they're making you breakfast. I'll try to hold them off until at least 7:00 so you can get a little more rest."

I nodded and groaned to let him know I'd heard him. _How in the world did I wind up with a family of early birds? I'm an artist—we stay up all night discussing deep thoughts and then sleep until noon_. _Ok, even if I don't do that anymore, Carmen and I did go out for a couple glasses of wine last night after our chick flick. I dropped into bed at 12:30. Ugh!_ An hour and a half later, I was ready to face the meal placed before me. It was sure to be sugar on top of sugar, with a side of sugar, but it would be very sweet, since my little boys made it for my birthday.

I lay in bed and smiled at the thought of the fantasy I'd be sharing with Carlisle that night before my thoughts were interrupted by my sons.

"Happy Birthday, Mom! Time to wake up!" Edward sang at the top of his very loud voice. "We made you beckfrast."

Emmett gingerly carried the breakfast tray, laden with… "Oooh—pancakes"

"No, Mom, they're CHOCOLATE CHIP pancakes," Edward corrected me, lifting his index finger like the little know-it-all that he was. "Me and Emmett made 'em."

"Emmett and I?"

"Yeah, Emmett and I. I mean, 'Yes.' Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes."

"See, Mom," Emmett interjected, pointing out the blob-shapes. "This one's a cake, and that little piece up there is the candle. And I made you some chocolate milk, too. I put extra chocolate in it 'cause I know you like chocolate."

"You guys are so, so sweet!" I kissed each of them on the cheek or the forehead or wherever I could reach. "You sure take good care of me on my birthday." I smiled as Carlisle brought in a cup of coffee, a glass of ice water, and bowl of cut up fruit and set it on the nightstand. "Thanks."

He winked at me, "Something to wash it down?"

"What do you mean, Dad?" Emmett asked. _He's getting way too smart_.

"Well, you guys made her such a nice big breakfast that she should drink some water to dilute it and to kick the digestive enzymes into gear so that it doesn't make her feel so full." I stifled a laugh. He's so full of it, but makes it sound oh-so-clinical!

"Mom, you gotta hurry up and eat so Dad can take you to your present!"

"What?" I looked at Carlisle, curiously.

He checked his watch. "We need to be somewhere at 9:30. Dress comfortably." I finished eating, hopped in the shower, and emerged from our room just as Mrs. Banner was arriving. With a suitcase.

"Carlisle, what's going on?"

"Well, you only turn 40 once, so you and I are going to celebrate in style."

"Yeah, Mom, you get to go to a_—_" Carlisle quickly covered Edward's mouth with his hand.

"Don't tell Mommy the surprise, Eddie-Bear. Not even a hint! Now, come give us hugs and kisses goodbye. We'll see you soon."

I enjoyed big good-bye hugs and kisses from my boys before my husband whisked me outside, where there was a snazzy black Porsche waiting in the driveway, next to Mrs. Banner's Saturn. _Oh great—he got me what HE wants._ Carlisle pulled my back into his chest, wrapped one arm around the front of my waist, and held a set of keys out in front of me. "Happy Birthday, Ezzy," he murmured in my ear. "Do you like it?"

I swallowed, pasted a big smile on my face, and turned, giving him a hug. "Wow! Thank you, Sweetheart. It's beautiful. It's like your car."

"I'll show you mine if you show me yours," he joked, lewdly. I looked at him like he was crazy.

"I'm not that kind of girl!" I teased.

"Oh, yes you are," he whispered in my ear, "but only with me."

"Mmm. Maybe so." I looked at him through my eyelashes and nodded coyly with a little giggle. We were being totally ridiculous.

"Do you mind if I drive us to the mystery destination?" he asked. "You can take control from there on out, for the whole trip, birthday girl."

I backed out of the hug and handed the keys to him. "Go, Speed Racer!" I used to tease him when he watched that cartoon in high school.

He chuckled and lent me a hand as I sunk down into the tiny car. I watched the scenery as we sped down the highway, zipping through traffic. It was kind of fun to be in a hot little car that everyone stared at. I could see the appeal. I'd hate to take it shopping at Costco, though! "This is really nice, Sweetheart, but I don't think it's very practical."

"Don't worry, we'll keep the van."

"We really don't need four cars for two of us, do we? It seems kind of wasteful."

He sighed, crestfallen, "You don't like it, do you?"

"I DO! Really! Are you kidding? I'd love to drive a sexy little car instead of a dorky minivan. It's just not very practical for our lifestyle right now, and I'm sure it was really expensive. And then there's the registration and the insurance and the maintenance. I just… I'm sorry."

"Ok," he replied with a shrug.

"Ok?"

"Yeah, fine. We'll take it back."

"We'll take it back?"

"Yeah, we'll take it back right now. Right here. Unless you want to take her for a little spin first." I looked up to see that we were pulling into a car rental shop near the airport that specialized in luxury automobiles. My jaw dropped open and I glared at him.

"It's a rental?"

Carlisle laughed. "I knew you didn't want a Porsche. I was just joshing you."

I punched him in the arm.

"Ow!" he faked, and then he laughed harder and wagged his finger at me. "See, you think I never listened, but I knew."

I shook my head slowly from side to side. He got me. That was a good trick.

"You handled it very well, though," he mimicked me with a high voice. "'I love it. It's beautiful. It's just like yours Carlisle. I just don't think it's very practical.'" He dissolved into even more laughter. "You're such a mom!"

I gasped in fake exasperation, "That's your fault, Buster!" I complained, poking him in the shoulder with my index finger.

"My fault?! Oh no, no, no. Don't even go there! It takes two to tango, Baby, and I know you love it. You love it as much as I do."

"What? How dare you! How could you even insinuate such a thing?" I splayed my hand on my chest, overacting with a haughty voice.

"I don't know, lady, maybe it was your Christmas present. You know, when you promised me a year of naughty sex to celebrate the savior's birth? That may have been one indication."

"Oh my god, I'm such a slut! Quick, call your mom. Tell her she's right—I corrupted you, Preacher Boy. I stole your innocence with my wild mid-life crisis!"

We pulled up to the front of the car return line and the rental agency guys looked at us like we were insane. They'd seen us laughing hysterically through the windows. We settled ourselves down enough to take care of the business at hand.

"Everything ok here, sir?"

"Just great, thank you. She gave us a good ride."

"Carlisle!" I admonished from where I stood on the passenger side, laughter bubbling up from both our chests again.

"Do you need a lift, sir?"

"Yes, please."

"Isn't your car here?" I wondered, looking around the lot.

"No, it's at home."

Now I was really confused. The whole thing was a joke, right? "Well, how will we get home?"

"Carmen's going to pick us up… In two weeks."

_Oh wow. We really are going on a trip. That part wasn't a joke._

"What?" I gasped at his admission, just as I noticed the tram driver pulling our large suitcases—the ones we use for long trips—out of the back of the Porsche and loading them into the shuttle. I flew into a panic. "I can't go away for two weeks. I've got work and the kids and so much stuff going on. I'm supposed to meet with a new client on Monday, and Emmett needs a new pair of baseball socks before his next game, and… there's so much I need to take care of before we go. Where are we going, anyway? How did you know what to pack? You don't know what to pack for me!"

"Ezzy, relax. Everything's taken care of. Trust me. Carmen packed for you. And she and Siobhan and Emmett figured out the whole schedule for work and the kids and everything. The babysitter's got it all, and everyone will be checking in, making sure it's all running smoothly. Granny's going to come by several times. My folks are going to take the boys all day on Sundays. They're going to have a ball without us, and everything's going to be just fine. So, you can calm down and enjoy your birthday present."

"But where are we going?"

"You'll see," he grinned, deviously.

The shuttle driver was asking all the passengers which airline they were flying, so he'd know where to drop them off. When he got to us, Carlisle looked in my eyes and answered, "Qantas."

I squealed. I literally squealed and covered my face with my hands. Then I started bouncing up and down in our seat. The other passengers turned and stared until I settled myself down. "We're going to Australia? For two weeks? Oh Carlisle, thank you. Thank you so much." I wrapped my arms around my husband's neck and held on tightly, like I would never let go.

"I told you I listened," he whispered in my ear. "Happy birthday, my love."

I gave him a loving but bus-appropriate kiss and settled into my seat with my head against his shoulder, my hand clasped in his and a huge grin on my face as he murmured places we'd see and things he'd planned for us to do in Australia while the bus made stop after stop around the terminal.

…

Everything about the trip was impeccably planned, from the first class seats on the airplane, to the schedule of cities we'd visit, accommodations and sightseeing, restaurants… He'd even looked up the best places to buy souvenirs, knowing that I'd definitely want to bring home some beautiful aboriginal art and that he wanted to decorate me with some of the nation's famous fiery opals.

We spent a few days in Sydney and then traveled up the Gold Coast, through Brisbane, and finally to the Great Barrier Reef in the northeast. Carlisle had found a resort that was on a tiny island right on the reef. There were only about a dozen guest cabins on the island, plus the main building that held restaurants, a beautiful pool, a health spa, a dive shop, and other amenities. We could step out the glass doors of our cabin onto our own private beach and into the crystal blue water, directly on the reef itself. We could have spent our whole vacation right there and I would have been thrilled, but added to the rest of the fantastic, wonderful things we'd seen together in Australia, this tropical island was the perfect, romantic place to spend the last three days of our magical journey.

On our final full day in Australia, we enjoyed a couples' massage at the spa and a delicious seafood lunch. We each ordered a fruity, tropical drink to go and spent the afternoon walking on the beach all the way around the island. It normally took about an hour to complete the circle, but we meandered and took our time, drinking in the incredible views, watching the wildlife, taking pictures, and talking. We talked about everything and sometimes we talked about nothing—just flirting and being silly. We talked about the past and the future, about the kids and the grandparents, about friends and bosses and schedules and jobs, and things we just never seemed to get around to talking about amid the craziness of our hectic daily lives. We talked about us. A lot.

"I have to ask, Es. The Fantasy Basket. Where in the world did that come from? Did you think that up yourself, or…"

I buried my face in his shoulder for a moment, embarrassed, before describing my foray to the department store with Carmen and all the kids and Edward's observation across the aisle from the Christmas ornaments, which started the wheels in motion.

"Wait, you're telling me that our eight year old son prompted you to write down a bunch of kinky and perverted sexual fantasies and give them to me for Christmas? That's just… wrong!"

"Well, taken out of context like that, it sounds really bad, but you've got your facts wrong, mister."

Carlisle raised his eyebrows to question his error.

"He was SIX!" I exclaimed. Both of us chuckled at the ridiculousness of the thought. And then I explained it in more detail. "The day at store with Edward, and the lingerie, and Carmen helping me think of the fantasies was really the culmination of a lot of other things." I told him about all the factors that had built up for months, leading to the Fantasy Basket idea. Edward just sparked the inspiration with his innocent comment.

"I love the way your mind works, Ezzy. You're so creative. You could probably make a fortune from that one idea alone. It's brilliant. Not to mention the fact that you'd make millions of men… incredibly happy. Like me." He thought for a second. "And probably the women, too," he chuckled.

We stopped walking and turned to watch the sun setting over the water. The burning light glinted in my husband's golden hair and I took a good look at him, reminded of how incredibly attractive he was to me.

"Oh, yeah?" I curled into Carlisle's side and placed several soft kisses along his neck and jaw and combing my fingers through the soft, curly hair in the middle of his chest. "It made you happy, huh?"

"Mmm. Very happy." He pulled me into his warm embrace. Our bodies melded together perfectly, like a fine leather glove that fits the hand it has stretched around a thousand times, molding itself as close as a second skin. "YOU make me happy, Es. Everything you do for me." We kissed the slow, knowing kisses of lovers who have shared everything and realize that there's no need to rush. As he moved his lips to worship other parts of my face, I peeked an eye open and discovered that we had arrived back at our own cabin. I smiled and closed my lids just before his lips graced them. He placed a final kiss on my forehead, cupping my face in both of his strong hands, and opened his eyes. His look said more than any words could express. His gaze said everything I needed to hear. In his eyes, I saw the 19 year old boy I'd fallen in love with yesterday and the 42 year old man I'd love for all my tomorrows. He shuttered them softly and bent closer, slowly brushing his lips against mine with the merest whisper of a word before bowing his head against mine in silent reverence: "You." We stood, still and silent in each other's arms until a warm breeze tapped us on the shoulder, cutting in on our private dance.

The gentle curve of his lips was the only warning I received. Suddenly, Carlisle untied the sarong at my waist and dropped it to the ground. He lifted me into his arms and carried me over the threshold between land and sea. The water was shallow and warm, only 4-5 feet deep at high tide and teeming with life in a ring of a hundred yards or so around the island, before the reef dropped 1,000 feet into the mysterious depths. When the water reached his waist, Carlisle set me down and we continued, hand in hand, until the warm water covered my chest. The sun had dipped halfway below the horizon, bathing the sky in a wash of color and light, but Carlisle's eyes were on me. And mine were on him. He ducked down, wrapped his arms around my hips, and lifted me, burying his face in my chest as he rotated us one full revolution. When he slid my body back down until my feet touched the sandy ocean floor, I saw that his eyebrows were knit into a look of serious contemplation.

"What are you thinking, Sweetheart?"

"I'm getting all… philosophical and moody." He tried to laugh it off, breathing out his nose and shaking his head slightly.

The corners of my mouth turned up into a gentle smile for him. "That's one of the things I've always loved about you. Your deep thoughts. Your wisdom. You ground me, you know." He cocked his head ever so slightly; curious that I would love something he considered to be a flaw. "Tell me?" I combed his windblown hair away from his face.

He nodded and took a minute to organize his thoughts—even his speech is always planned and precise. That used to drive me crazy. "Just tell me what you feel!" I would admonish, until I learned that if I was patient, he'd usually stun me with something incredibly insightful or meaningful, the perfect solution to a problem, or the most unbelievably romantic thought. Words worth waiting for. So, I gave him time and then he spoke.

"John appeared, baptizing in the wilderness and proclaiming a baptism of repentance for the forgiveness of sins. Mark 1:4"

_Ohhhh Kay… Not sure where he's going with this_.

"Baptism wasn't originally for babies. It was for adults who repented and wanted to be cleansed of their sins so that they could commit themselves to a better life."

_Mm Hm_. I looked at him, perplexed.

"A long time ago, I made you a promise that I didn't always keep very well. I promised to love and cherish you every day for better or for worse, for richer or for poorer, in sickness and in health, forsaking all others, till death parts us. But I sinned against you."

I stiffened in his arms. _Holy crap, he didn't cheat, did he? No, he wouldn't have… would he? _

He held me tighter, rubbing my back. "Never that, Esme. You'll always be my one and only. I've always loved you. But I took you for granted. That may be even worse. I put others before you—my mother, my job, the boys." He pinched the bridge of his nose. "So many things I'm ashamed of."

"Carlisle, don't…"

"Thank you for working so hard to save us. To restore… this." He swiped his hand between the two of us. "Life wouldn't be worth living without you."

"Carlisle, I was as much to blame as you. Maybe more. You were forgiven long ago. After my reunion, remember? Besides, I…"

"As were you," he interrupted with a kiss before I could list my many transgressions against our marriage. "I was wondering if we could…"

"What?"

He took a deep breath. "Start over? Recommit?"

I smiled at him and he found his courage. "Esme, will you baptize me and allow me to reaffirm my vows to you?"

I looked at him and saw that he was completely serious. This spiritual side of him was one that I didn't understand as well as other parts of his personality, but I knew it was very important to him. Marrying me with my weaker faith and non-religious upbringing were compromises he'd made, and I'd promised myself that I'd never fault or tease him for being who he is. _Well, maybe just a little_.

"I don't know if I'm qualified for that, Preacher Boy."

He laughed, appreciating the moment of levity. "That's ok. I'll accept the Disney version." He knew that I hated the way Disney watered down so many rich, classic, stories until they'd lost most of their original meaning. "Besides, it would mean more coming from you than from anyone else."

I nodded my agreement to baptize him and suggested, "You do me first. Show me how it's done."

He looked at me, surprised and somewhat skeptical. I looked into his eyes to covey that I was serious and reverent before he took me in his arms, said a short prayer about forgiveness, cleansing, and rebirth, and dipped my head under the water three times. I repeated his words and actions, cleansing him and we stood in the water holding each other in the dwindling twilight. We exchanged the same vows we'd spoken so long ago. The promises were the same, but the words meant so much more now, now that we had shared the good times and the bad, the richer and the poorer, the sickness and the health.

He kissed his bride. It was a far cry from the chaste little peck exchanged at our real wedding, where we'd been so shy in front of our guests. This was a deep, soulful kiss that had also benefitted from years and years of experience. We made our way out of the warm water to shore and toweled each other off, touching slowly, unwilling or unable to keep our hands off of each other as he led me through the back door and into our room. As Carlisle took the wet towels into the bathroom to hang, I stripped out of my swimsuit quickly, standing completely bare and uninhibited before him as he emerged, offering everything: my body, my soul, my life. He stopped short when he saw me, stripped off the bath towel he'd tucked around his hips, and tossed it back into the bathroom. We stared at each other from across the room, separated by the large bed. He pulled the blanket off the top as he walked past it, keeping his eyes on me and not caring about the pillows that fell to the floor or the lamp he nearly knocked over. He was of a singular focus as he gathered the blanket under one arm, took my hand in the other, and led us, naked, back out onto the beach.

I checked nervously to make sure there wasn't anyone taking a moonlight stroll across "our" beach as he spread the blanket on the sand near the treeline.

"Mmm… Mrs. Cullen." He lifted a hand to my breast. The other rested on my hip. "I promise you more than our first wedding night." We'd been so broke when we got married that we had to do almost everything ourselves, and got very little sleep the week before the wedding. When the exhausting day was over, we drove five hours to the Washington coast, to a beach condo loaned to us for our honeymoon by a member of Ed's congregation. We'd fallen into bed as soon as we finally got there.

I giggled into Carlisle's lips at the memory of waking at 11:30 pm in a panic, a crick in my neck from the updo I'd slept on, too tired to take my hair down, and rolling over to shake him awake. I warned him that our wedding night was almost over, so we'd better get to it. He obliged, grumbling and barely conscious, and we were both asleep again ten minutes before midnight. Not the most romantic of wedding nights!

"Mmmm…" Our kisses heated and deepened as we stood on the beach. Hands gripped and squeezed. Bodies writhed and pressed. He sunk to his knees and laid me down on the blanket, taking a moment to scan my body—every inch—with his eyes. It was a moment too long, and I reached up for him, desperate to feel his skin warming mine again as I peered up at unfamiliar stars beginning to twinkle in the darkening sky behind him. I sat up and grabbed him around the neck, pulling him down on top of me. We rolled and tumbled, tangled together, connected at the lips. I was desperate and grasping. He was slowly savoring, taunting me.

"Always so anxious on our wedding night, Mrs. C," he teased. "Let's enjoy it this time."

"I'm trying to!" I said. "Please! I need you."

"Shhhh… Slow down, Baby." He pinned my wrists above my head with his left hand and used his right to touch and caress his way down my body, following his fingertips with his lips up, over, and around every curve, down every valley. He released my hands as he traveled too far south to reach, trusting me not to spoil his journey with my haste. I relaxed with a deep breath, shuddering and opening my knees to him as his fingers trailed lower and lower down my pelvis, discovering the mysteries in between as if they really were new again. My patience was rewarded handsomely as his warm tongue and long fingers delivered me to bliss and back.

My husband sat up on his haunches between my legs, looking serenely down at me and caressing my thighs as I glowed and writhed through my recovery. I looked up as he lifted my hips onto his thighs, pulling me so close that the tall shaft between his legs brushed my still-tingling nub, causing me to twitch. I gasped and tried to move my hips to generate more friction, but with neither hips nor legs nor lower back touching the ground, I had no leverage and my movements were small. He controlled us.

"Patience, wife," he murmured. "Trust me."

Again, I took a deep breath and tried to relax through my desire to feel more of him. Again, he rewarded me handsomely, holding my hips steady as he moved his own, slowly dragging his length up and down everything between mine, sliding more smoothly with each pass as my excitement for him coated us both. I closed my eyes, savoring the feeling, and he leaned slightly forward, angling himself inside on the next upstroke. I hooked my ankles around his back, trying to pull myself closer, pull him in deeper. With a gasp, a sigh, and increasingly loud moans of pleasure, I buried my fingers in my hair and arched my back, enjoying every moment, every movement he led as he held me against him and thrust his hips deeply into me, lifting and lowering off his knees. The blood rushed to my head, heightening my sensation with the feeling of lightheadedness as he sped his movements. He achieved the perfect angle, nudging the spot inside that makes me scream, over and over. I pinched my nipple with one hand, and lifted the fingers of my other to his lips. I felt the heat of his face, the deepness of his breaths, as he sucked two of my fingers into his mouth, coating them with his saliva that probably still tasted like me. I moved my hand between my legs, rubbing in tight, fast circles, smiling each time I accidentally felt the penis that was bringing so much pleasure, and speeding up when I found just the right spot. Building… building… "So close… Right there… Don't stop…

Ohhhhhhhhhhh…" I cried out, almost sobbing, as I came, squeezing and sending Carlisle into rapture along with me. He groaned and grunted as his movements became erratic, jerky while releasing into me. He held my legs in place as he tipped forward, laying astride me and trying not to disconnect as we caught our breath and cooled down. The breeze chilled our sweaty bodies and we pulled the blanket around us, snuggling, nuzzling, exchanging "I love yous" and "Thank yous."

We rolled apart and sat up, preparing to go inside to bed. "I guess we can check 'sex on the beach' off the fantasy list, huh?" he mused.

"Beach? What beach?" I kidded, in a heavy-lidded daze as I rolled over and up onto my feet. His laugh changed to a groan as I extended my hand to help him up. "Sweetie, what's the matter? Are you ok?"

"Ugh! I don't use those muscles. My legs are going to be really sore on the plane."

"Even with all your jogging?" I asked, worried.

He shook his head. "Different muscles."

"Why didn't you stop?"

He looked at me like I was insane. "Are you kidding me?"

I pouted my lips, feeling sorry for my lover as I led him inside by the hand and drew him a hot bath.

…

The flight home to Seattle was a long, cramped and arduous 16 ½ hours… The excited reminiscing about our trip with interlocked fingers resting upon Carlisle's knee which punctuated the first few hours soon gave way boredom: to books and movies watched with our thighs touching where an armrest used to divide us; a fitful nap with my head on his shoulder; shoeless toes tangled together as we ate or played cards on the tiny tray tables. I hooked my finger through his belt loop as we walked together toward the lavatory or simply traipsed the narrow aisles to stretch our tired limbs. We were always touching, always aware, always together.

The further our flight progressed, however, the more anxious I felt. 'Always together' was not an element of real, grown-up, busy lives. My emotions vacillated between eager excitement at the thought of returning to the boys and routine and "home," and trepidation, fear about what lie in store for Carlisle and me once we left the magical land of Oz. Although we'd made huge strides and significant improvements in our relationship over the last couple of years, I feared that we might slip. With his research project and my new venture with Siobhan it would be easy to fill our time with responsibilities and not with each other. Could we sustain the closeness we'd found during our time alone amid the distractions and noise and responsibilities of the real world? Would our commitment stick? I felt guilty for having so little faith, for expecting the worst.

As the flight pushed on, crossing the vast Pacific from south to north and west to east above a sea of clouds, Carlisle could sense the tension I was feeling. Clinging tightly to his arm, I shared my concerns. I explained my fears, worried that I may hurt his feelings, especially after that whole recommitment-baptism-vow renewal thing he'd orchestrated. He listened carefully, nodding thoughtfully, and then leaned down to retrieve something from the bag he'd stowed under the seat.

"Ow!" he grimaced, his sore muscles flaring with the foreign movement after sitting in the cramped seats of the plane. I wondered what he could be digging for under there, and shook my head when he emerged with his planner in hand. _Of course!_

As he began describing the business plan and work agreements that he'd recently put together for the medical project he'd be collaborating on, I began to chuckle. He was so serious and almost excited as he made the connection between that project and our marriage as a "project" that we should set goals, objectives, and expectations for. When he started talking about "measurable and quantifiable results," and sketching tables and matrices, I couldn't help but laugh out loud.

"What?" he asked. The light in his eyes dimmed as he realized that I wasn't as excited about this as he was.

I stroked his cheek and rested my hand on his knee under the tiny fold-down table that held his all-important planner. "I'll never figure out how you do it," I grinned, shaking my head.

He furrowed his brows, wondering what I was talking about. "Do what?"

"How you manage to be so incredibly cool, and such a dork at the same time?" I gave his knee a little slap and chuckled as his face cycled through several emotions in a split second: anger, confusion, hurt, and finally, resignation…self-depreciation. He started snickering and his face turned pink as he tried to hold in his laughter.

He shrugged his shoulders, raised his eyebrows, and quipped, "At least I'm _your_ dork."

I leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. "My one and only dork." He smiled as I picked up his pen, turned to a clean page in his notebook, and wrote, "No Dumping" in letters so large that only four or five bullet points would fit. He followed suit, writing "Make her remember every day." We took turns, summarizing our commitment into half a dozen rules, debating and discussing what's most important.

Carlisle stowed his planner and pulled my back to his chest. He murmured reassurances in my ear, arm slung around my shoulders, pulling me close. Whispered promises gave way to kisses, and soon we were nuzzling each other, oblivious to flight attendants preparing for landing as we desperately clung to the last moments of our carefree time together.

"We're never going back there, Baby." Carlisle promised as we waited for the passengers ahead of us to clear, and I knew that he wasn't talking about the beach or the island or Australia.

I squeezed his hand as we walked up the gangway and entered the busy international arrivals terminal. A large crowd had gathered around to greet their loved ones. We could hear two excited young voices rising above the din before we could see them, and just moments before their bodies slammed into ours with an 'oof!'

"FIIIIIIIIIIRRST HUUUUUUUUG!" Arms wrapped around bodies in a four-way family embrace as my eyes met my husband's and we leaned across our sons' heads to kiss each other.

"Welcome home, Ezzy."

**A/N**

And with that, we must bid 'adieu' to Ezzy and Carlisle. We'll see them twice more—older versions of themselves—but this is the last chapter of _their_ story. I'll miss them. Will you? I know a lot of you were hesitant to read a story so focused on this couple, and I thank you for sticking with us to the end. Please leave me a note—I'd love to hear your thoughts.

Besotted … A million thanks are not enough. You've helped me keep them in line—pushing me when I didn't take things far enough, pulling me back when I took things too far. Esme & Carlisle were so much better with your contribution. Thanks for jumping ship, just for me!

And thanks to my special guest beta and reviewer extraordinaire, BelieveItOrNot, who jumped in to help with this chapter when Besotted was slammed with real life. Without her help, this would have been one long paragraph, and I never would have found my way to the end.

Thanks for reading, everyone! Bella & Edward's final chapter is coming soon. It may take awhile because I'm not completely happy with it. Methinks some re-writes are in order, and that may take some time.

While you're waiting, please take a few seconds to leave a review. Please? Thanks.

JEN

Twitter: JenEsmeFF

PS: Did you catch my goof in Ch. 17? So many details, and this one originated back in ch. 9. I fixed it. Sorry for the error.


	22. Just a Note

Hello Friends!

Sorry—This was a teaser, an apology for a delay in posting Ch. 20, and a plea to urge everyone to vote for The Fantasy Basket for Fic of the Week at the Lemonade Stand in Dec. 2012. It didn't win, but brought lots of new readers here to take a look. Many thanks to MagTwi78 for the nomination and to everyone who voted.

Since I've now posted Chapter 20, I'm removing the teaser.

JEN


	23. Chapter 20, Bella: Christmas

**The Fantasy Basket**

**By JenEsme **

**Inspired by Stephenie Meyers' Twilight series. No infringement intended.**

**Chapter 20—Bella: Christmas**

**Posted January 16, 2013**

December 2012

"Gamma is therw! Wooky, Daddy!" Riley started to bounce and buck atop Edward's shoulders as we approached the baggage area at Sea-Tac, pointing excitedly to his grandmother. With his bird's eye view, he spotted her much sooner than we could and he was so excited he nearly launched himself into harm's way. As Edward lifted him up off of his shoulders and tried to hold Riley against his chest, Riley twisted and kicked, trying to squirm away as only a toddler can, squealing at the top of his lungs and attracting lots of dirty looks from the crowd around us.

"Riley, stop!" I demanded.

"Riley! Be. Still." Edward scolded. "You stay with me. Danger!" It would be so easy for a two foot high two-year-old to get lost or trampled underfoot among the crowd of cranky holiday travelers.

"Lemme go! Go see Gamma!" the boy shrieked, pounding Edward's chest.

"Riley Biers Cullen, you have two choices: you can calm down and let Daddy carry you, or you can be strapped into your seat. What'll it be?" His bulky car seat was balanced atop the stroller I maneuvered through the crowd.

"NO! See Gamma, NOW!"

"We will be with Grandma soon," Edward promised. "If you can be still, I'll put you back on my shoulders so you can watch her. Do you want Daddy's shoulders or do you want the car seat?" The boy went from tense and straining to limp rag in half a second as he relaxed. "Daddy, up. Watch Gamma." _Didn't I just say that? Why does he listen to Edward, but not to me?_

"OK, good choice, Ri. Now be still and we'll be with Grandma soon." I puffed my cheeks and blew out a large breath as Edward lifted a now docile Riley back onto his shoulders where he squealed—with delight this time—and waved to Esme across the room. I swear his mood changes could give you whiplash.

"You ok?" my husband asked.

"Yeah, I just want to get outta here."

"You and a few hundred other people, Babe. We'll be there soon." He rubbed my lower back soothingly as he held Riley's leg with the other hand. I took a deep breath and nodded as we continued to inch toward the baggage carousel. We finally retrieved our bags and reached Esme, to Riley's delight and my relief. She greeted us warmly and whisked us out to the car and away from the airport madness.

Riley conked out during the 45 minute ride to my in-laws' house. It was way past his bedtime. I was nearly lulled to sleep myself, exhausted from a long day of last minute Christmas shopping, packing, and the inevitable crowds and delays of hectic holiday travel. Not to mention how trying it was to travel with a two year old. Edward noticed me nodding off from the front seat where he chatted with Esme. He flashed me a wink and steered the conversation away when Esme thoughtfully tried to include me. I gave him the sign for 'thank you,' leaned my head against Riley's padded car seat, and dozed off.

The next day was a whirlwind of pre-Christmas activity. Esme made cookies with Riley, which were included in gift baskets we delivered to patients at the hospital where Carlisle works. It's a Cullen family tradition to deliver goodies to the poor souls who are stuck in the hospital during the holidays and it brought the recipients so much joy. Later that night, we bundled up to watch the parade of boats that were lit up with holiday lights. It was beautiful and festive, but I was freezing. I've never lived in a cold climate, so I'm kind of a wimp. I tried not to complain, especially when Edward wrapped himself around me and rubbed my arms to help warm me up, but I was really glad to get home.

"Broken Leg, Bella?" Carlisle offered.

"Excuse me?"

"Would you care for a Broken Leg?" He held two steaming mugs in his hands. "It's spiced rum, hot apple cider, and a cinnamon stick. It'll take the chill off!" he explained. Riley was tucked into bed and the four of us were sitting down to play Pinochle.

"Thanks. But actually, I was thinking that Riley's hot cocoa looked pretty good. Could I have one of those instead?" It was delicious and beautiful (of course—it was from Esme's kitchen) in a Christmas mug, piled high with whipped cream, chocolate shavings on top, and a candy cane to stir it with.

It was fun to hang out and play cards with Edward's folks for a couple of hours. He was more comfortable with them than I could ever remember seeing. Their banter as we played cards showed a whole new side of him. Edward had taken our conversation after the cruise in September to heart and was seeing a counselor to work through some issues he had about his parents, so it was heartening to observe his interaction with them now.

"I can't believe you actually called Carlisle 'Dude,' Edward! You're starting to sound like your brother." We were headed up to bed, happy and playful after winning the match against his parents and in Edward's case, a little loopy. _He_ hadn't passed on the drinks.

"Oh no, not Em! Somebody stop me, please!"

I hissed at him and punched him in the shoulder. He playfully grabbed me around the shoulders and gave me a noogie in the head. "I'll show you what my brother does."

"Ow!" I whined.

"I'm sorry, Babe." He kissed the spot he'd knuckled. I took advantage of the momentary tenderness, poking him hard in the ribs and escaping from his hold, running down the hall toward our room, laughing.

He caught up with me, slung me over his shoulder, and smacked me on the rear before dropping me onto the bed. His mom had redecorated after he moved out, so his old room was now a beautiful guest room with a queen sized bed. "You watch it, Missy, or I'll show you what else my brother does," he warned, leering as he reached back for the collar of his shirt and pulled it over his head.

"He doesn't leave much to the imagination, Edward." Emmett is loud and boisterous and very open about exploits with his wife.

"Ha! You didn't know him in college. He was much worse then. There were SO many girls…" Edward unbuttoned his jeans and pushed them down to the floor, stepping out of them and climbing up onto me in only his boxer briefs.

"Well, it sounds like I picked the right brother then."

He smiled and kissed me. "I may not be much like him, but I am a very, VERY good student. He told me all about spots like this…" He leaned in to lick and suck the sensitive spot behind my left ear, making me quiver. "…and this…" He ran his nose along my jaw and then kissed and nibbled his way down to my collar bone, pulling the collar of my shirt down with his fingers so that he could swirl his tongue in the indentation of my throat and caress my clavicle with his soft lips. I was shocked—pleasantly so—that he was initiating sexy times at his parents' house. He sat up, straddling me to untuck my shirt, then ran his hands up underneath it and over my bra. "…and especially these." He pulled the cups down to free my breasts and rolled my sensitive nipples between his fingers and thumbs. I groaned at the sensation. "He taught me how to do this…" Edward reached around my back and unhooked my bra with one hand. "Tah-daaah! And he told me that girls go positively crazy for this little maneuver right here…" He leaned in for a kiss, caught my bottom lip between his, and sucked gently, sending shivers down my spine.

I shuddered and pushed, rolling our bodies over so that I was now on top of him. I darted my tongue into his mouth impatiently, needing more, kissing him aggressively. I pulled myself away and sat up, straddling him as I crossed my arms over my waist to pull off my shirt. The loosened bra came off one arm with the shirt, but got caught on my other arm. I tugged at it, growling at the feeling of being trapped. When I finally freed myself, I attacked my husband's mouth again, grunting and frantically pulling his face closer to mine, turned on even more by the tickle of his chest hair against my sensitive nipples.

"Please stop talking about your brother," I demanded. "Just show me." I rolled off of him onto my back, unzipping my tight jeans and struggling to shimmy out of them. I pushed them down, but they got stuck on my feet. "Aaargh!" _Damn straight leg jeans!_

Edward sat up and pulled them off around my ankles, grinning, almost mocking me. "Babe, relax…" With those two words and a sobered expression, Edward changed the entire mood. Playful Edward and thoughts of his brother were gone, replaced by the calm, soothing Edward who settled my frantic mind and made me feel like we were the only two people in the world.

After freeing my feet, he slowly, carefully, ran his large, warm hand all the way up my body, from my toes, over the top of my foot, circling my ankle bone, wrapping his fingers around and up the back of my calf as his thumb trailed along my shin, pausing to rub circles behind my knee and lifting my leg gingerly to place a wet kiss in the spot his fingers had teased, then traveling up the side of my thigh. He paused at my hip to scootch his body up the bed. When he reached his favorite spot, he added his other hand to mirror the first, smoothing them over the curve of my hips, dipping in at my waist, and bowing out to the sides of my breasts, which he grazed with his thumbs on each pass. He caressed my sides, up and down like something precious, delicate, and made me hum as he reverently kissed a line from my pelvis up to my navel. He guided his hands slowly inward to worship my breasts, gently lifting, squeezing, circling, caressing, as his mouth continued upward to join in—kissing, lapping, nibbling, sucking, teasing—all of which caused me to keel and clench, hissing to keep quiet when I really wanted to moan aloud, and sending a surge of wetness between my thighs. With a final tender kiss to each elongated nipple and a small grin at them, my husband continued on his way, running his open hands up my chest, followed by a trail of sweet kisses. Massaging my shoulders a few times as he nibbled his way up, he ended with my face in his hands gazing blithely into my eyes.

"I love you," he murmured before leaning in to capture my lips between his own, over and over again until I felt light headed and almost drunk from his kisses. I had to pull away, reluctantly, to catch my breath, and the look on his face as we both panted was one of pure love and adoration. I felt… cherished. A tear escaped from my eye and rolled into my ear. It was uncomfortable and I swirled my finger inside my ear to wipe it away, grimacing. Unfortunately, that broke our lovely mood. Edward chuckled at me. I shook my head, rolled my eyes and sighed before giggling along with him. He wiped away the trail of my tear before leaning in to kiss me again.

"Wait," I begged, pushing against his chest. "I have to pee!"

He scoffed, shaking his head. I turned back to face him. "I'll be right back. You'll be here, right?"

"I'll always be here for you, even when your timing sucks. Now go get it over with. Even Emmett draws the line at being peed on!" he joked.

"Gross!" I made a face and tied a robe around my waist. "How would you even know that?"

"I told you, I'm a good listener. And Emmett went out with one girl who…"

"Stop! Not another word!" I shook my head and headed out to the hallway toward the bathroom, grateful that he'd remembered how to listen to _me_ again. I dropped the robe on the bathroom floor rather than risk fighting against all that fabric. I'd been so clumsy lately that I was likely to dip some part of it into the toilet. As I stood to wash my hands, I peered at myself in the mirrored shower door, turning sideways and forwards and then sideways the other direction, running my hands along the bumps and curves that didn't used to be there. I sighed, knit my brow, and shimmied back into the robe to return to my eagerly waiting husband.

…

"So, does that count as our fantasy for this week—doing it in your childhood bedroom?" I wondered, as we held each other, sweaty and flushed after making love.

"I don't know—maybe. This doesn't feel anything like my old room, though, even though it's the same space. When I was little, the walls were all painted to look like the rainforest and there were stuffed animals and vines hanging from the ceiling. It was cool. I even had a rainforest sound machine and a pet frog."

"Wow, really?"

"Yes. And then when I was about 12, I decided I wanted to be a doctor and I went crazy for science, so Mom painted my room to look like the inside of a human body. It was kind of like that exhibit we took Riley to at the children's museum. This wall was the circulatory system, so there was a lattice of veins and arteries and a big cross section of a heart. That wall was all muscles. And over there was the skeletal system. It was awesome!"

"Sounds kind of disturbing to me. Could you actually sleep with all that going on?" If he ever HAD brought a girl to his room as a teenager, I think those walls would have scared her away. I could see why Esme redecorated as soon as he moved out.

"Of course! I loved it! My dad would come in and tell me about surgeries he'd done during the day. He'd sit on my bed and use his laser pointer on the wall to show me what he'd done. Then I'd trace the movements with my hands."

I gasped. "Is that why you always do that?" I moved my hand in the odd motion I'd seen him doing absentmindedly near that plain, taupe-colored wall for years, whenever he was waiting for me or whatever.

"Do I do that?"

"All the time."

"Huh! I guess it's just automatic, subliminal. Anyway, after my dad said goodnight, I would lie in bed and visualize what he'd shown me as I went to sleep. It's like I was always studying. And the white noise machine had a heartbeat sound that would lull me to sleep as I was thinking about it."

"Studying in your sleep and practicing heart surgery since you were 12, huh? My little overachiever!" I pinched his cheeks, like the great-aunt every kid dreads to see at a family reunion.

He laughed and shook me off. "Hey, you knew I was a science geek when you married me. It's too late to mock it now, Lady!"

"I'm just teasing, Clarkie. I love your brilliant mind." I ran my fingers through the hair at his temple. "I envy the fact that you found something you're so passionate about at such a young age. Your mom is incredibly creative—it was wonderful to immerse you in that."

He smiled wistfully. "We actually came up with the idea after a trip to Disneyland. Do you remember a ride they used to have…"

"That one over by The Peoplemover?" I gasped.

"The Journey to Inner Space..." he reminded me.

"Oh my gosh—that's right! It would shrink you down and…" I had many fond memories of visiting Disneyland with my dad. I stayed with him during the summers, and every year he'd save up all his vacation time to take me on a road trip somewhere in the southwest US. Disneyland was always a stop on our California trips. It was fun to hear about Edward's childhood visits to the same place.

We stayed up for hours talking about Disneyland and childhood memories and Christmas as a kid. It was fun to discover new things about Edward and to hear him relive all his old stories. It was comforting to enjoy conversation with each other again, to know that we'd found our way back to each other after drifting apart. I'd been so worried that I'd lost this Edward—the sweet, fun, playful, interesting (and, yes, a little geeky) guy I'd fallen so hard for in college—forever. Things still weren't perfect between us, but we'd figured out ways to talk to each other instead of letting problems fester.

Edward was animated and happy during our visit to Seattle. I don't know if it was due to being away from the stress of work and home, being around his family and old friends, the excitement of Christmas, especially now that Riley was old enough to enjoy it, or what, but he often reminded me of that Edward I first met and fell in love with. I was so happy to have my best friend back. He was showing affection for me more than ever—holding my hand and giving me lots of hugs and kisses. We were putting each other first—even ahead of Riley—most of the time. He sometimes slipped when he was stressed or distracted—we both did—but I could honestly say that we were back on track. It was great, _we_ were great, and getting better every day.

Wednesday came, and I was excited about the fantasy I'd planned to surprise Edward with_. I sure hope he likes it!_ The suggestion I had made to him about fulfilling a fantasy by having sex in his teenage bedroom was just a diversion tactic. I had something much bigger planned. I'd started planning the fantasy a few weeks before our trip, making reservations and arranging with Esme to babysit. I had even tried on a dress and had Alice order it from Nordstrom in Seattle so that I wouldn't have to cram it in my suitcase along with all the Christmas presents and Riley's stuff, or risk Edward spotting it.

I'd kept Esme in the dark, only telling her that I wanted to surprise Edward with a special date night. I could tell she was curious when I reconfirmed with her on Wednesday morning. "You know we'll watch Riley any time, Bella! You kids go and have fun. Is that your basket night?" she asked with a sparkle in her eye. I blushed and looked at the floor, shuffling from foot to foot.

"Um…" I looked up at her, feeling pulled between two loyalties. "Esme, I promised Edward that I... I'm sorry. You've helped us so much, but I just…" As much as I'd enjoyed her advice and our candid girl-talk, it had made my husband feel betrayed.

She put her arm around me and gave me a squeeze. "It's ok, Honey," she said with a big smile. "He _should_ be the one you talk to." She kissed me on the temple. I looked into her eyes with a sigh of relief and could tell that she understood perfectly why I couldn't share so much with her anymore. "You just leave Riley to me, so Grandpa and I can spoil him rotten!"

I headed upstairs to start the wheels in motion. Edward was surprised to find me waiting in our bedroom after his shower. He'd gone running with his dad, and on most days, by the time he returned I would be downstairs cleaning up from breakfast and getting on with our day. There's no such thing as sleeping in late with a two year old, even on vacation. But today I left Riley with Esme so I could sneak back into our room and present Edward with a Fantasy Basket card. He hadn't expected that we'd share one at his parents' house, and was a little nervous when I held it out to him.

"Bella, really? Here? I don't want to get too craz…"

I covered his lips with my fingers. "Shh. Trust me. It's a special custom fantasy, just for Seattle. Nothing crazy." He raised his eyebrows, skeptical that I'd planned anything tame enough to do under his parents' roof. He reached for the card, but I pulled it back.

"Wait. First, I have to make sure we're doing this right." I slid a finger under the waistband of his jeans to feel what he was wearing underneath. Cotton. Plain, old, jersey-knit cotton boxer briefs, just like every other day. That wouldn't do. I reached over to my suitcase, dug around for a moment, and pulled out a pair of forest green, silky underwear for him. I set them on the bed and grabbed for his fly, quickly unfastening it and tugging his jeans and the offending "wrong" underwear down over his hips before he could stop me.

"Bella! What are you doing?" I pushed him onto the bed and kneeled on the floor, working his pant legs over his sock-clad feet as he leaned back on his hands. I'd only meant to change him into the Wednesday underwear, but as I reached up over his knee to grab them off the bed, resting my hand on his thigh, I caught sight of his nakedness and felt a surge of desire. My face was _right there_, just a few inches from him. I smiled at him slyly as I glanced up under my lashes. My mouth was watering and I bit my lip, contemplating. He must have been affected too, because his body was responding, even if his mind objected.

"Bell… No!" he whisper-shouted. "Not…"

I plunged—licked him from base to tip and then wrapped my mouth around his hardening girth, sighing.

"Oh, Bella." Edward tore his hands through his hair, fighting the sensation as I sucked and caressed him with my lips and tongue. He finally gave in with a soft moan and moved his hand to my hair, holding it out of my face. I looked up at him and smiled at the expression of pure bliss he wore. My husband opened his eyes at my change in pace. "You're a bad girl, Bella Cullen," he joked, heavy lidded.

"Oh, sorry!" I released him quickly and wiped my mouth with the back of my hand as he whimpered at the loss. "I got a little distracted. Oops!" I slipped his feet through the special Wednesday underwear and he lay back on the bed, moaning and covering his eyes with his forearm as I hoisted them up his legs. I swatted his hand away when he moved to grasp his wet, still-quivering erection, and gave it a quick kiss before covering it with the underwear. "To be continued, later."

"You're such a tease!" He sat up and worked his feet through the pantlegs as I helped guide him back into his jeans.

"I just couldn't help myself. You're irresistible." He snickered and shook his head slightly, narrowing his eyes in mock anger. "I'm just getting us both into character for tonight." I handed him the fantasy card with a grin. He read it and looked at me, slightly baffled. "I know it's the wrong season, but you said you'd never been, so…" I shrugged nervously, hoping he'd play along. "I don't know, I just thought you deserved to have the experience."

He chuckled and his ears turned a little pink. "Sounds fun, but how…"

"I've got it covered, don't worry!" I crossed to the closet and pointed out his costume, pulling tickets out of the pocket. "Pick me up at six?"

Edward smiled and gave a slight nod. "Ok."

We joined the family downstairs and headed out for a day at Hidden Meadow, a kind of outdoor holiday theme park held at an old farm. They had snow and sleigh rides, a petting zoo with reindeer, and all sorts of old-fashioned fun. As we waited in line to meet with Santa, I realized that I'd left Riley's sippy cup in the car, so Edward and I went to retrieve it. On the way back, he guided me into a pretty gazebo, decorated with evergreen boughs and twinkle lights. It was lovely, but I was a little concerned that something was wrong, because Edward had gotten quiet and serious.

"Is everything ok?"

The corners of his mouth turned up into not-quite-a-smile and he took the ends of my scarf in his hands, pulling me a little closer and looking into my eyes.

"What's the matter? Are you cold?" I rubbed my hands up and down his biceps, creating friction to warm him up, but he shook his head and took my gloved hands in his.

"You're so sweet. So pretty." I scoffed a little, embarrassed and curious about what had come over him. "I was wondering if you'd like to—"

I heard a child shriek and instinctively turned my head, scanning the Santa line across the yard to make sure Riley was ok. I spotted him happily playing with his grandma and turned my attention back to Edward, finding a hopeful, almost desperate look on his face.

"I'm sorry, what?"

Edward huffed out a breath and nervously repeated himself. "So will you go? To prom? With me?"

I almost started laughing, but stopped myself at a smile when I saw his earnestness. "You never got to ask anybody that in high school, did you?"

"No," he murmured. I could tell he was embarrassed. Whether for taking this role-playing so seriously, or for neglecting to participate in such a universal rite of passage, I didn't know, but I decided to play along.

"I would love to go to the prom with you, Edward Cullen, but there's something else we have to take care of first." I pointed to the rafters overhead, where a bundle of greenery hung from the apex. Mistletoe. Edward smiled and pulled me in close, touching his lips to mine, slowly and gently.

"Thanks, Babe," he rocked me back and forth in our hug. I backed out of the embrace, worried that we'd miss Riley's visit on Santa's lap.

"More of that tonight, ok? C'mon." I bounced down the gazebo steps and reached back for my husband's hand with a grin. "I can't wait!" Skipping, I dragged him along, back toward our real-life, anticipating the make-believe we'd have later on.

Returning to Carlisle and Esme's house, I put Riley down for a nap and headed for the shower. I'd relocated Edward's tux to the downstairs bathroom and guided him there so that he wouldn't see my dress until he "picked me up." _This is actually kind of fun_. I was looking forward to our special night as I preened and primped. I headed downstairs to give Esme a few last minute instructions for Riley's care and her eyes grew wide at me in a formal gown.

"Oh, Bella, you look lovely! Wherever are you two going?"

"Well, I found out just recently that Edward didn't go to his prom, and I thought that since we're here in his hometown and it's our fantasy night, it might be something fun for him to experience."

Esme clutched her hand to her chest. "Prom night? Aww…"

"I looked online and found that there's a charity ball tonight, and I thought that would be a pretty close approximation, so…"

"That sounds wonderful! I've always wondered if moving him ahead a grade and encouraging him to take college classes early was the right thing to do. He didn't fit in very well with a lot of the other kids and missed out on a lot of the traditional high school experience. I hope he doesn't resent us for that."

"Oh, Esme—no! I don't think he feels that way at all. He told me about the prom under a completely different context. I don't think…"

"I hope not." I shook my head to reassure her, thinking her fears were completely unfounded. _I guess worrying about your children never stops. I wonder if I'll still be worrying about Riley in 25 years?_

"You know, Carlisle took me to _my_ prom! Sweetheart—" she turned her attention to Carlisle, who had just gotten home from work and was lying prone on the floor of the kitchen, rolling a toy car back and forth with Riley through a tunnel that they'd built out of boxes. It was so funny to see my father-in-law, the respected doctor and consummate gentleman sprawled out at a two year old's level, but it was also heart-warming to see him play with and love my son so much. "Remember our prom night?"

He moved to his knees, tousled Riley's hair, and stood up next to his wife. "Of course. How could I forget my beautiful girl in pink?" He kissed her cheek and held her eye for a moment longer than expected, sharing a memory, no doubt.

"Oh, Edward's not back yet, so I'll show you!" she exclaimed with a little bounce, reminding me of my friend Alice as she traipsed toward the den to retrieve a photo album from one of the towering bookshelves. We sat on the couch together turning through the pages of memories with Carlisle standing behind us filling in facts that Esme missed in her animated descriptions. Despite the really ugly 1970s hairstyles and clothes, they were a stunning couple, and so very young! Although Riley looks a lot like Edward, I'd never been able to see much resemblance to anyone else. But there he was—clearly—in Carlisle's teenaged face. _Wow_. After flipping through pages full of photos from holidays and dates, Esme in her cheerleading uniform, some beefcake pictures of Carlisle at the beach ("Wasn't he a hunk?" Esme leaned in and whispered.), a celebration that must have been Esme's 18th birthday, and pictures of different activities with high school friends, we arrived at the prom. Oh, my gosh, they were so sweet, dressed up all fancy in ruffles and bows and looking so in love.

"Is that Granny?" I asked, noting the woman standing proudly next to Esme in one of the photos, squeezing her shoulders in a hug.

She nodded and smiled wistfully. "Carlisle took that one. I'm so glad he did. She carried it in her purse and showed it off to her friends for months afterwards. She made my prom dress for me and was so careful to get everything just perfect. And it was. Just perfect." She laid her hand over the one that Carlisle had placed on her shoulder. "Granny entered that dress in the state fair and won Best of Show among all the sewing categories, you know."

"Wow—really? That's…" My phone began to sing from the evening bag on my lap.

"Hi. Where are you? Is everything ok?" Edward was uncharacteristically late. Only by a few minutes—it was no big deal, just surprising.

"Sorry it took me so long," he apologized, breathlessly. "I'm in front. You wanna just come out? It'd be quicker. Do we have a dinner reservation? What time? Where? What do we…"

"Edward, it's fine. We have plenty of time. Our reservations aren't until 7:00, so get your hand out of your hair and come knock on the door. C'mon—awkward parental moments are part of the experience." I moved to the large picture window at the front of the room and held back the curtains to look out. Edward was just rounding the front of his dad's car—the pristine 80s-era red Porsche, not the Mercedes—hand in his hair (just as I thought), in a tux. God, he was gorgeous. When he heard me gasp, he stopped and leaned against the passenger side fender and looked up toward the house, spotting my face in the window.

"You mean we have to take a bunch of posey pictures and then I have to look your dad in the eye and promise to take good care of you even though he and I both know that my one and only objective for the evening is to get laid?"

"Edward!" I laughed.

"What? It's true, isn't it?"

"Well, I suppose so. Why don't you come up here and find out?" I turned back toward the room and looked the father in the eye as I spoke to the son. "I'm sure Carlisle wouldn't mind playing the role of Charlie in this scenario." He chuckled and approached me, holding his hand out for the phone. "Consider yourself lucky. My first prom date had to face my dad in his sheriff uniform, with his gun on his belt."

"Good god, I bet that kid crapped in his rented satin pants."

I laughed and handed the phone to Carlisle.

"Son," he growled, "get your butt up here and show this lovely girl some respect. I don't know what kind of family you come from to think you can just honk from the curb and expect her to come running to you like some cheap, drive-by…" The doorbell had rung in the middle of his rant and the look of terror on Edward's face when the door opened was hilarious.

"Good evening," he greeted tremulously. "Is Bella here, sir?"

Carlisle crossed his arms and looked at him sternly as I reached past, grabbed Edward's sleeve, and pulled him inside. I noticed a clear plastic box in Edward's hand. "Ohhh, you bought me a corsage?"

"That's why I was late. All anybody had was poinsettias and centerpieces." I smiled shyly as he popped open the crackly box. Suddenly, Riley shouted "Daddy!" and ran full-speed into Edward's legs, wrapping his arms around his knees. Edward kneeled down and held the flower out to Riley, who buried his face in the petals, smelling it. "Hey, Big Guy, you wanna help me put the flowers on Mommy?"

I cringed to think of my two year old coming at me with a huge corsage pin, until he asked me, with Edward whispering prompts into his ear, "Holja hand ow, Mama." Together, they slid the elastic around my wrist and then Riley gave me a slobbery kiss on the hand.

"Thank you, Baby." I gave him hugs and kisses, bade him be good for his grandparents, and crossed the room to get my wrap off the back of a chair. "Edward, can you take this?" I pointed to the overnight bag I'd packed. He raised his eyebrows, questioning. "Just in case someone spikes the punch?" I teased. Esme looked at the floor to hide her knowing grin.

"Now listen here, young man." Carlisle was really getting into his role. "I expect you to bring our little girl back to us in one piece. I may not have a gun, but I have a whole drawer full of scalpels. You set one toe out of line with her and I may have to take you down to the hospital for a little visit."

"Ok, Jack-the-Ripper, we'd better let them go or they'll miss their dinner reservations," Esme intervened. "Go on, you two. Have fun."

"Oh, just in case Riley…"

"Nope—we can handle it," Esme promised. "We've got lots of experience. And we have your phone number, just in case, so don't worry. Don't even think of him. Think of each other. Now, go play—have fun at the prom! GO!"

"Ok, ok! We're off." Edward put his hand on my back and led me out the front door. Before the door shut all the way behind us, I thought I heard his parents joking:

"…Like a prom dress."

"Carlisle!" Esme giggled.

…

We settled into the car and merged onto the freeway toward downtown Seattle. "Your dad's such a trip, Edward. He was having so much fun. God, I think he was scarier than Charlie ever was."

"He's actually a pretty funny guy, once you get past the professional doctor persona and all the son-of-a-preacher-man baggage."

"Hm. Sounds like someone else I know." Edward just smiled and gave me a sideways glance as he shifted into high gear. We rode in silence for a few moments, speeding through the light Seattle traffic on a rare clear night. My husband was obviously enjoying the car as he wove from lane to lane, passing the other cars in our path. I had to keep my eyes on him or risk freaking out, white-knuckled, if I caught a glimpse out the windows or at the speedometer. _Why do little cars seem so much faster? My SUV feels a lot safer. Jeez, I'm such a mom!_

"This is a nice ride you've got here," I purred, caressing the leather seat.

"I can't believe my dad let us take this. This car's his baby. I can count the number of times he's let me drive it on my fingers… one hand." He lifted his hand from the gear shift and wiggled his slender digits at me.

I raised my eyebrows. "Really? Well, I'm glad." I took a deep breath and sighed. "You gave me quite the Jake Ryan moment, you know. Made me swoon."

"Huh?"

"You know—Jake Ryan—from _16 Candles_."

He shook his head. "Never saw it."

"You're kidding!" I told him about how I'd watched the old 80s movie on video tape at a friends' slumber party in 8th grade, rewinding it so I could watch the scene where the cars pull away and Jake Ryan is there, leaning against his Porsche, waiting to sweep Samantha off her feet, over and over again. Edward just chuckled, mocking me for my obsession with the cheesy 80s movie. A movie from my mom's era, not mine. "Hey—it's a classic! Besides, tonight is all about reliving our teenaged fantasies, right?"

He raised his eyebrows.

"Well… Jake Ryan… mmm… just sayin'." Edward teased me about my movie crush and started laughing out loud when I explained that my best friend had gotten us matching 'I heart Jake Ryan' t-shirts for Christmas that year.

That was the start of a lively evening, full of fun and laughter as we shared memories and experiences, hopes and dreams from our high school and college years. Dinner was delicious and the charity ball-cum-prom was… well, the dressing up and the dancing were fun. We met a few people who introduced themselves as friends of Carlisle and Esme. But for the most part, it was pretty staid and kind of boring. We didn't know anybody and there were no teenaged antics going on—no attempts at spiking the punch, no scandalous couples making out in the corners (that I could see, anyway), no juicy gossip among frenemies. After exhausting stories of my own prom, Edward and I entertained ourselves by watching people and making up ridiculous, far-fetched stories about who they were and what their dirty secrets may be. We left early and I steered us toward the elevators, back in character and begging my date to take me to the big after-prom party in one of the hotel suites.

Edward smiled. "You really planned this all out, didn't you?" He wrapped his arm around my shoulder and gave me a grateful squeeze. "Are there really people up there?"

I shook my head slightly and whispered "Party for two," holding two fingers up in a secretive "V" in front of my chest as I peered under my lashes at him.

His smile grew to a grin. "That sounds perfect, but I've got somewhere I want to take you first." I pouted slightly, tired and wanting to kick off my uncomfortable heels. "C'mon, it'll be fun. I promise. It's part of the essential Seattle teenage experience." I nodded in agreement and pushed my weariness aside, content that my husband was playing along and enjoying the silly date I'd planned. We were having fun together and I couldn't help but wonder whether the experience would have been completely different if we'd tried it a year ago. I pictured the rolled eyes, contemptuous wrinkled brow, and impatient sneer that used to mar his handsome face all-too-frequently when directed at me and quickly banned that vision from my thoughts, never wanting to see it again, optimistic that I wouldn't.

Edward's face lit up as the valet pulled the Porsche in front of us (he didn't have to bring it far, having parked in one of the few spots right out in front that valet services always seem to reserve for the fanciest cars). I razzed him a little as we got in, claiming that he didn't really want to take me somewhere special—he just wanted an excuse to drive it again. He shrugged. "Just wait. You'll see…"

We tangled through the hilly streets of downtown Seattle for awhile and slowed in front of a little old-fashioned diner that was tucked away between a residential neighborhood and a modern industrial area. It was quaint, recalling a slower, simpler time—something out of the movies or an old TV show. Edward assured me that sharing a milkshake with two straws and some chili fries at Embry's was a local rite of passage for every young couple. _Says the heart surgeon!_ Unfortunately, Embry's was dark. I jumped out to read a sign on the door and returned to Edward, waiting in the unparked car. "They're closed. Reduced hours these two weeks for the holidays."

He checked his watch and saw that it was after ten. "Well, that sucks," he complained with an apologetic look. I assured him that it was ok, I was still full from dinner anyway, and we drove away.

"Where are we going now?" I was surprised that he'd turned away from the hotel rather than toward it, and was headed into the hilly outskirts of the city.

"Somewhere that never closes," he assured me. "In fact, the later you go there, the better." I knit my brow, trying to guess. I shifted in my seat and tucked my feet up under my legs, wondering where he was taking me. We'd been driving for about 15 minutes and I'd long since kicked off my painful shoes.

"Clarkie, I really don't feel like going to a strip club."

My husband barked out a laugh. "No, Babe. It'll just be us."

"So why don't we just go back to the hotel where it's nice and warm?" I cooed, trying to seduce him into taking me back.

. "Because THIS is a place that every teenage boy wants to take a beautiful girl like you at the end of a date." He gave me a wolfish look and rounded a curve at the top of a hill. The small, secluded road was pretty dark, and I gasped in surprise at the sudden, beautiful view of Seattle's twinkling lights that lit the valley below us. The glow stretched for miles, interrupted only by the large black expanses that I knew were bodies of water. Edward pulled the car off the road and parked in one of a few spots marked "Scenic Overlook."

I could feel a blush warming my face, though Edward wouldn't see it in the dark. "No way," I giggled. "We're gonna _park_?"

Edward took off his seatbelt, turned his body toward me, and pressed his lips together, spreading around the lip balm he'd applied earlier. He took a deep breath and I could see just a hint of his hungry look in the moonlit night. "Every boy's fantasy…" he murmured.

"Hmm." I smiled and leaned my head back, sinking into the comfortable leather seat for a moment, anticipating what was to come. I turned my face slowly toward his, which he'd placed just inches from mine, and ran my index finger tenderly along his strong, square jaw. I reached down to unbuckle my own seatbelt and lifted up from the seat a bit to adjust my gown as I angled toward my husband. Once I was settled, he leaned in further, cupping my face gently in his hand as his lips brushed mine. I lifted my hand, sneaking it under his jacket to squeeze his waist as we peppered each other's lips, faces, necks with a hundred tiny kisses.

"Mmm… My Bella…" He combed his fingers through my hair and nuzzled his head against mine. "This is exactly what I'd want to do after the prom."

His kisses grew longer, stronger, more desperate. He shifted his body closer to me, maneuvering across the parking brake that divided our seats. From there, things intensified into a full-blown make out session, with lips and tongues and nibbles, grunts and moans, grabby hands, my skirt lifted around my waist, and completely fogged windows. God, it was fun! Our clothes were in disarray, our hair disheveled, our lips swollen when we parted to catch our breath, panting as we leaned against the car doors, staring at each other from opposite sides. I adjusted myself back into the bodice of my dress, chuckling. He started to tuck in his shirt, opening the fly on his tuxedo slacks to make more room when I noticed a shadow of fabric that was dark and shiny where I'd expected dull cotton.

"Wait!" I demanded a little too loudly, startling my husband into thinking something may be wrong. I smiled to alleviate his alarm. "Hold on…" I crawled over the seats to reach him. "I almost forgot you were wearing these." I reached my hand out to grasp his stiffened cock through the soft, silky fabric of his fantasy night underwear. I worked my hand up and down his length a few times, slowly stroking him.

"Mmm…" He closed his eyes and leaned back as much as he could, knocking his head slightly against the window and leaving patterns in the fogged glass.

"I believe I owe you something from this morning."

Edward's eyes darted open, shining with excitement that I could see even in the near-darkness of the car. He shifted his hips closer to me, spreading the shirttails and the flapping fly of his pants to give me better access. My fingers reached up to graze the soft warm skin of his toned stomach before curling under the elastic of his underwear and stretching it out a few inches, easing it down over the head of his erection. I pushed them down as much as possible, holding the fabric out of the way with the side of my hand as my fingers clutched him at the base. Then I leaned in close and gave his length a slow kiss, right in the middle. His cock made a little jump, tapping my face as I backed away slightly.

"Patience, my love," I admonished, swirling one finger around the tip, spreading the drop of moisture that had seeped out. He released a long, stuttering breath and banged his head gently against the window on its return from gazing down at me in his lap. I caressed him all the way down and back up with that fingertip, then followed the same path with the tip of my tongue, wrapping my lips around the head when I arrived back at the top. I played up there for awhile, sucking and swirling, kissing and licking, sticking the tip of my tongue into his little slit while my hand squeezed and milked him down below. His heavy breathing evolved into moans, which intensified with surprise when I plunged him deeply into my mouth—as deep as I could go. Unfortunately, I gagged when he hit the back of my throat, and I backed completely off. "Sorry," I muttered, disappointed in myself.

"You ok?" he asked, tenderly.

I nodded and dove back in, not quite so deeply, but working him harder and faster with my hand to compensate. He seemed to like it, if his noises were any indication. He was vocalizing a lot more out here than at home, and he was loud. It was so sexy. It made me feel powerful to prompt that kind of reaction. I started moaning, too. Moaning, sucking, squeezing, ignoring the parking brake that was digging painfully into my abdomen.

"Shit! Get Up!" He suddenly jolted upright and started lifting my shoulders up and away from him, making sure I didn't bang my head on the steering wheel. A split second later, when the haze of lust had cleared from my brain, I could see them—the red and blue flashing lights and bright white spotlight that fought their way through the blur of foggy windows. Edward frantically tried to fix his pants as I straightened my skirt. He tossed me his suit jacket and turned the car key halfway so that he could lower the power window just as the police officer tapped on the glass.

As we scurried about, trying to make ourselves decent, we burst into laughter. We were shaking with mirth and Edward's eyes were starting to water when the officer said "Step out of the car please, son." This brought a renewed burst of laughs from both of us as my 29 year old husband, busted for making out in a parking lot, answered "Yes, Sir," and opened up the door of his daddy's Porsche. The cop asked for his license without noticing Edward's face. He was peering into the car, shining his flashlight along the floor, probably looking for alcohol. I pulled Edward's tuxedo jacket around me against the burst of cold and gave a little wave when the light landed on me.

"Everything all right here, Miss?" he asked.

"Just fine, thank you," I answered, struggling to hold back a snort. He gave me an odd look and then stretched to his full height, facing Edward as he flashed the light on the card in his hand.

"There's a half hour time limit on the parking spots here in the scenic overlook, Mr…. Cullen, and from the looks of your windows, I'd say you've exceeded that."

"Actually, it's _Doctor_… Cullen" Edward corrected him and ran a hand through his hair, nervously.

"Cullen?" the policeman squinted at the ID in his hand, obviously checking the name and birthdate. "Edward Cullen?" He shined the light so that he could finally have a good look at Edward's face. "Eddie Cullen?! Is that you?" He let out a big guffaw and placed his hand on Edward's shoulder. "It's Jake! Jacob Black."

My husband gasped. "Jake? No shit! How are you?" After doing that handshake man-hug thing Edward leaned over to look at me in the car. "Bella, this is a friend of mine from elementary school."

"Hi," I said, kind of embarrassed about the circumstances of this little reunion.

"What the hell are you doing up here? It's usually just a bunch of kids. Unless you're…"

"No, no. I was just showing my _wife_ some of the sights, since we're in town for the holidays. Our two year old's at home with my folks."

"Uh huh," he taunted. "Enjoying the _view_, huh?" We all nodded and I was grateful that the darkness hid my red face.

The guys talked for a few minutes, and agreed to meet later in the week so they could catch up. Then we headed back to the hotel. Edward filled me in on the details about his old friend as hills changed to suburbs and then city streets. Soon we found ourselves back in the lobby blending in with the formally-clad guests who were just exiting the ball that we'd abandoned earlier.

"I guess we missed the last dance. Sorry, Babe." I just scoffed at him. It was obvious to both of us that our impromptu diversion had been a lot more fun than that stuffy gala. And we certainly had a better story to remember. We laughed and joked about getting busted by the police, earning some shocked, some envious looks from other party goers who shared our elevator.

Up in the room, I plopped down on the bed, tossing those horrible shoes in the corner. I crossed ankle over knee and tried to rub the pain out of my poor, tortured arch. Edward emerged from the bathroom and handed me a glass of water, which I guzzled down, so thirsty.

"Feet hurt, Babe?"

"Ugh," I grumbled. "Why is it that the prettier the shoes are, the worse they feel?"

He sat in the chair opposite the bed, lifted my feet to his lap, and began to massage them. I hummed in contentment, leaning back on my hands.

"I'll bet your first prom date didn't do _this_," he taunted, digging in his thumbs for an extra deep pass across my sole, eliciting a little grunt from me.

I shook my head slowly. "Huh uh. You're the best prom date, ever."

Edward switched to my other foot. "Really?"

I nodded and closed my eyes, soothed and relaxed as I enjoyed the massage.

"Good," he murmured after a few moments' silence. "I was a little worried." I opened my eyes to a face of insecurity. Maybe I'm the only one who can see it in him: brows slightly knit, lips pressed together just a bit—he hides it well, but I could see.

I lowered my feet to the floor and leaned toward my husband. "Clarkie," I comforted, caressing his cheek, "Why?"

He took a deep breath. "I don't know." He looked at his hands clutching his knees, avoiding eye contact. "He must have been pretty special for you to…"

I huffed out a quick breath at the ridiculousness of that thought, but caught myself halfway through, hoping he didn't perceive that I was laughing at his trepidation. "Oh, Edward, no. No, no." The look in his eyes when he glanced up at me was pained, worried. He very well _could_ have been a teenager in that moment, insecure and unsure of himself. "That was…" I let out a sigh. "He was a nice boy, a really good kid, but…" I winced, recalling my real prom night with Eric and the goading he endured from boys at the party we went to after the dance. 'She finally gonna make a man out of you, Yorkie?' they'd taunted, and someone threw a condom at him. He'd felt so humiliated. The girls weren't much better with me, though at least they'd been a little less public, teasing me in the bathroom while we primped in front of the mirror.

"Edward," I assured him, "We were just helping each other out, succumbing to peer pressure." I shook my head at the memory. We'd left the after-prom party early and vented in the car about idiot classmates and our fears of moving on to our adult lives—me to college, him to the military—as virgins. I invited Eric into my house, knowing that my dad was working the night shift, a rash decision I'd grow to regret. "I didn't love him," I murmured as a wistful thought flickered through my brain. I wondered what it was like for those couples of yesteryear who saved themselves for their wedding night; for people like Esme and Carlisle, who found their one true love before offering themselves to someone less.

Edward took my hands in his and looked into my eyes. I could tell he was formulating a thought, but I interjected, "You know, with this prom night fantasy thing… I, um… I wanted to give you the prom night you never had, but I also…" I let out a quick breath, nervous to admit, "I kind of wanted a do-over of my own. I wanted to replace those old memories with something better. With someone better."

One side of my husband's mouth curled up as he considered what I'd said.

"A do over?" He asked as he moved my hair behind my shoulder and left his hand on my neck, caressing my jaw with his thumb. "With me?" He gazed into my eyes with so much love I forgot to breathe.

I nodded my head and patted the bed next to me, urging him to move closer. Instead, he stood, tugging my hands until I followed.

He led me to the closet, of all places. But instead of sliding it open to hang our prom night finery, he positioned himself behind me, both of us facing the floor-to-ceiling mirror on its door. "I've got something to tell you," he promised, meeting my eyes in the reflection. His left hand curved around my waist and his fingers traced the lines of the bodice of my dress as his right squeezed my shoulder. Edward leaned down to murmur into my ear, his eyes following the trail his hand made along my body, "You look so beautiful in this dress. You were the prettiest girl at the prom." I snickered at his play-acting. "But I have to confess…" His eyes met mine in the mirror as his right hand traced the bustline of my gown, his fingers warming my skin just inches from where I really wanted to feel his touch. "…I've been imagining all night what you might look like underneath it, hoping that you'd show me." The hand at my waist pulled my back closer to his chest as his lips tasted my ear and neck. I leaned into his kisses and grasped his strong thighs behind me as his other hand kneaded my breast through the contoured fabric.

I played along. "No one's ever seen me like that."

Edward smiled, lips at my temple.

I lifted my hair to give him access to the zipper at my back. He inched it down slowly and I clutched the dress to my chest, turning toward him when he'd reached the bottom. "Don't," he said, turning me back to the mirror. "I want to see you from every angle."

"Ok, but you first," I answered, deviously, stepping to the side so that I could see his chest revealed as he opened each of his buttons. Dropping his cufflinks and watch into my outstretched hand, he slowly slid the shirt from his shoulders as I deposited them on the nearby desk. Returning my eyes to my husband's bare torso in the mirror, I could feel my heart beat a little faster. Waiting only until my eyes met his in the glass, he quickly unfastened and lowered his tuxedo pants, leaving him in only the tight, slinky, green briefs that displayed a prominent bulge in front.

"Have you ever seen a man naked before, Bella?" he whispered. I smiled and could feel heat in my face.

I suppressed a snort, and tried to stay in character, but couldn't resist: "I surely picked a bad day to give up my subscription to Playgirl."

Edward narrowed his eyes in mock anger at me. "Just for that, I'm going to make you sit on my face and wriggle. And stop calling me Shirley," he admonished with a swat on my rear. We both laughed.

"Sorry, I couldn't resist." Edward knows I love movie lines. And they pop into my head at the most inconvenient times. "Good comeback, by the way. Your training is nearly complete, Young Padawan."

He raised his eyebrows, slightly exasperated, and waited as I took a second to focus back on the prom night fantasy. I pecked him on the lips, closed my eyes, and took a deep breath. I opened them and scanned his body in the mirror, pausing at the only spot that was still covered. "No," I finally answered. "I've never seen a man naked. Not in real life. I want to see you. And touch you." I bit my lower lip shyly as he lowered his underwear, hiding himself with his hands.

"Your turn," he teased as I widened my eyes at his deception. "Quid pro quo, Clarice." _Ok, he got me back_. With a smile and a shake of the head to end the silliness once and for all, I caught his eyes in the reflection and gazed into them longer than was comfortable, letting the passion build again in our minds. As soon as one of us blinked—I think it was me—I dropped my already-loosened dress to the floor and hooked my thumbs under the elastic of my underwear, forcing them down as well. I turned my head to look into Edward's eyes—his real eyes—and he looked at me. I felt him take my hand and knew that he'd bared himself, but we kept our eyes locked for a moment longer, speaking wordlessly of promises, love, and commitment. I leaned in and kissed his upper arm, where my lips fell naturally with our height difference. He lowered his chin to kiss the top of my head and with a squeeze of my hand, we turned our heads back to the mirror.

Inch by inch, I travelled up Edward's body, memorizing every angle, every curve, every slight imperfection and change in color as if I really were seeing him—his mesmerizing beauty—for the first time. My eyes reached his face before he'd finished scanning me, so I peered at his hair, the auburn color that is so uniquely Edward, and then took another sneak peek at his manhood, standing tall below his navel. I swallowed some excess saliva that pooled in my mouth and dragged my eyes back to his face, where I met his gaze, glowing with admiration. I turned my head to see the real Edward, so much better than the flat reflection of him, and our bodies followed, molding together in a warm embrace as our lips met again and again.

Edward leaned down to scoop me into his arms and carry me to the bed, where he pushed the covers away, not wanting anything to impede us. His fingers and then his lips gently traveled the course of my body, never stopping, not missing a single lonely spot on my skin as he touched each curve, each valley, each hidden crevice that awaited discovery. I followed suit, running trembling fingers and quivering lips over Edward, learning, feeling, awakening his every nerve. I let out a wavering breath as I imagined—felt, really—that I actually was giving and receiving this pleasure for the first time, feeling everything anew. The emotion brought a tear to my eye, a sniffle to my nose.

"Are you ok, Babe?"

I nodded and swallowed a lump in my throat, not quite able to form words. With a gasp, I wrapped my arms around his back and twisted my feet around his shins, clutching him with all my strength, trembling. He squeezed back and rolled until I was underneath him, protected by the cage of his arms around me, his strength firm but gentle, his warmth and weight consuming, comforting. I could feel his hot breath on my chest as he nuzzled into the crook of my neck.

"Oh, god, Bella." He lifted his head to look into my eyes, overcome, and took a deep breath, attempting to slow his heaving lungs and racing heart. I dug my fingertips into his back and clenched my teeth, fighting the same overwhelming intensity.

"You feel it, too." It was more a statement than a question.

He attacked my mouth and face with deep, hard kisses that left our lips swollen and red. Our bodies pressed and writhed together, beginning to overheat and sweat. My legs spread wider around his hips, inviting him in, unable to forget the feeling I craved despite the game of first times that our minds played. He slid his length through my folds, picking up speed and stimulating my clitoris with each pass as I grew wetter, coating him.

I opened my eyes and blinked a few times to bring his face, so close and moving so fast, into focus. The look in his eyes was pleading, aching. With my fingertips, I nudged him into place.

"Do you want this, Isabella?" he breathed. I was impressed that he had the presence of mind to continue with the role play. I certainly didn't.

I shook my head. "Not 'want.' Need." I tilted my hips and pressed upward, angling him into me, causing me to gasp, him to groan. "I _need_ you inside me." He laced his fingers with mine alongside my head and slid his full length in and out, slowly, brushing my clit with each pass, both of us moaning. "Oh Edward. Ohhhhh. Oh Clarkie. God. Edward. Baby." A little faster, a little louder, a little less controlled, my breaths became shallow, my fingers tightened around his, and the muscles in my belly began to twinge. He bent his head down, taking my nipple into his mouth, licking, sucking. He did that flicking thing, whatever it is, that drives me crazy—once, twice, the third time sent me over the edge, muscles clenching, squeezing, tingling, prickling, shooting light and warmth and calm and excitement at the same time from the deepest point inside me outward to the furthest extremities, spreading bliss and love for this man through every cell, every fiber, every nerve. My goofy emotions took control of me again, and this time the tears spilled from my eyes and rolled down my cheeks as Edward continued to thrust, faster and harder. It was so good, I don't know why I was crying. I bent my knees and lifted my pelvis to meet him each time, needing him, needing this, wanting to be ever closer. With a long groan and several jerking thrusts, he climaxed, exploding inside me.

Edward pulled me closer into his arms and we held each other as our breathing slowed, kissing and nuzzling. Happy.

"Oh, Edward, I lo…" Borrowing my signature move, he placed his fingers over my lips.

"Shh," he warned, gazing tenderly into my eyes. "No words." He placed a sweet kiss on my forehead and began to rock me back and forth. My crazy tears turned to giggles as we rocked and smiled and kissed, overflowing with love. I squeezed him a little tighter as a million thoughts tumbled around in my brain: This guy's the one. Forever. He's mine. God, I love him. He's all I need. I'm so lucky. I'll never need anything else but him. I'm so glad we found our way back to each other. Edward. Just Edward. My Edward.

…

My sister-in-law, Rosalie, had just left the kitchen to nurse her baby, leaving Esme and me to finish prepping Christmas Eve dinner. "You and Edward sure seem happy. Did you have fun last night?" I smiled and nodded, keeping my eyes on the onion I was chopping, and blaming the moisture in them on it. "What a difference eight months can make, huh?"

"Oh, Esme, I can't thank you enough. It's so nice to be talking to each other again. Just look at him." We watched Edward playing with his son and his nephews in the family room, rolling around on the floor and letting them climb all over him. Sensing my eyes on him, he glanced up and smiled. "You see that? He notices now."

"I've seen him noticing you a lot this week," Esme said proudly. "_That's_ the boy I raised."

I nodded in agreement. "That's the boy I married." I winked at him across the room just as Riley grabbed him from behind, causing Edward to groan and fall back dramatically as three little tots climbed upon their vanquished foe. "Everything you taught me has helped us so much. I'm really grateful. You've got to be the best mother-in-law ever!" I leaned over and gave her a peck on the cheek. Esme laughed and put her arm around my shoulders, giving me a squeeze.

"It means the world to me to hear you say that, Bella. I had such an awful relationship with Carlisle's mother that I always promised myself to love my boys' wives as if they were my own daughters."

"Well, you've succeeded. Rose and I are very lucky."

Carlisle arrived with his father, whom he'd picked up from the nursing home where he lived, and we enjoyed dinner with Edward's whole family—four generations.

Afterwards, we put Riley to bed with promises of Santa and Rosalie stayed home with the kids while the rest of us attended Christmas Eve service. It concluded right at midnight, with everyone in the congregation carrying a lit candle out to the courtyard and singing Silent Night under the stars. It was a beautiful (but cold), clear night.

"I started that candlelight service at Trinity the year that Carlisle here was born…" Grandpa Ed had preached at the church for 48 years, and had lots of stories to tell. He married Edward and me there, just as he had Emmett and Rose, and Carlisle and Esme before us. All the Cullen babies had been baptized there, too. It was a special place for the Cullen family.

"Merry Christmas," my husband murmured in my ear as I snuggled against him in the back of Esme's Range Rover. I leaned my head on his shoulder, ready to fall asleep any minute.

"Hey, guys, no making out in the back of the bus!" Emmett joked from his seat next to Esme in the middle row.

"Oh Em, hush! It's been a long day. Let them rest. They still have to go home and do Santa," Esme admonished.

"Speaking of Santa, did you see Professor Dumbledore at church? Dude, that beard was long! Hey Gramps, do you know that guy?" Emmett turned his attention to the front seat, engaging Grandpa Ed in a conversation about old friends. Edward began talking quietly to his mom about running in to Jacob (leaving out most of the details) and their plans to meet up with the kids at the playground as I faded off to sleep.

Christmas morning was a joyful cacophony of squeals and giggles as stockings were dumped, presents were ripped open and cheered for, impossible-to-open packages were cursed at by the adults, and batteries were installed, bringing the children's toys to life.

"Mama, wook! T-wex!" Riley pushed a button on the foot-tall plastic dinosaur, causing it to roar, calling out to his cousin's Triceratops and instigating an epic battle that made the baby cry.

"Dinosaurs are the next phase after trucks, at least they were for my boys," Rosalie warned with a grin, standing to nestle Lily on her shoulder and calm her with the 'mom bounce.' _I guess I've got a theme for next year's birthday party_.

As the kids played happily with all their new loot, it was the adults' turn to open gifts. We'd drawn names and agreed to exchange things that were 'handmade or heartfelt' since we all had so much already. None of us needed any more useless expensive toys, neckties, or scented lotion. I had sneaked around with my camera earlier in the week and asked Edward to climb up the tree that held his childhood treehouse to help make the perfect gift for Esme. As she lifted the familiar looking basket out of a tissue paper-laden gift bag, she blinked a few times and looked my way.

"What is this, Bella?" she asked, nervously. I grinned at Edward. We'd succeeded in flustering the unflappable Esme Cullen! I took the recognizable velvet bag out of the basket and handed it to her.

"Why don't you see what's in here?" I offered, while handing the basket itself to Edward. He ducked behind the couch for a moment as Esme drew a business sized card from the bag. She swallowed and darted her wary eyes toward me. Looking at it, she found the large, messy letters of a five year old: _I Love You, Grandma. Love, Brady_ and was confused until she turned it over to see a photo of Emmett and Rose's oldest.

"Here, Mom, tie it on." Edward lifted the basket, now filled with the tree branch he'd cut, painted gold to match her holiday decorations. Esme grinned and put her hand to her heart as she pulled out card after card with a message and photo from each member of the family (Rose and I had stamped a footprint for little Lily) and tied them onto the branch with red velvet ribbons.

"Oh, Kids, this is beautiful." Esme sniffed, close to tears. She turned to Grandpa Ed. "Remember when our entire extended family fit around one dinner table? Remember that Christmas?"

He leaned forward and patted her hand. "Her last," he nodded. "She was always so proud of your boys. And of you. She just didn't know how to show it." Esme looked from Ed to Carlisle and back and I thought she was going to start crying. We had no idea what they were talking about, but Edward could read them clearly enough to know a change of subject was in order.

"Did you get everybody, Mom?" Edward reached for the velvet bag, looking for any forgotten cards. Using his best sleight of hand trick (perfected by pulling quarters out of Riley's ears) he slipped the last card inside. "I think there's one more."

"That should be everybody," Esme scanned the tree, trying to determine who was left off.

Rosalie gasped and looked at me, wide-eyed, across the room. I smiled discreetly and looked down in my lap to hide my terrible poker face. Meanwhile, Esme dipped her hand back into the bag and pulled out the final card.

"Hey, this was empty before…" She blinked when she read the card and darted her eyes to me before squinting and reading it again.

_Fetus Navidad, Grandma— See you in July!_

_Love, Baby Cullen_

"What?" Esme cried out, flipping the card over to see the ultrasound picture affixed there. It showed a grainy kidney bean-shaped baby with the beginnings of some arms and legs. I had Photoshopped a little red Santa hat on the baby's head. "Really?" She covered her mouth with her hand as tears sprung from her eyes. Happy tears, this time. Edward and I nodded 'yes,' and Edward put his hand on my still-flat (well, almost flat) belly. "Bella's growing you a new branch for your tree, Mom," he announced, elatedly. I caught his other hand and squeezed it.

"Oh, Carlisle!" Esme slapped her husband on the knee a few times and then turned and gave him a big hug. The room erupted into cheers and congratulations as she jumped up and pulled me into her arms. "Good one, Honey," she whispered during our embrace. "You had me going there for a sec. I guess that basket really works, huh?"

I laughed. "Thanks, Mom. For everything." I murmured, eternally grateful for Esme's wisdom, her advice, and her Fantasy Basket.

THE END

**A/N**

Well, there you have it. Did you guess Bella's big surprise? I left lots of clues. Which one gave it away for you?

There's a short epilogue (already written—no delays, I promise!) which I will post next week, but this is the end of story-proper.

If you're reading this as a WIP, I apologize for making you wait a couple of months (ok, 3) for this final chapter. I pre-wrote all but the last 2 chapters precisely to avoid delays like that. So much for good intentions! Real life events not conducive to writing happy endings intervened. And real life failures made me not want to face another one here, where it's supposed to be fun and fantasy—my escape. Posting the end of my story closes the door on any hopes that "the next chapter" will be the big one that gets me closer to my unmet goal, and that made it really hard to finish.

But finish, I did, thanks to all of you for your favorites/follows, reviews, tweets, recs, and that nom to the lemonade stand; and thanks especially to the patience and nudging and reassurance of my good friend and beta, Besotted. She always knows what to say, and tells me when I've said too much. The Fantasy Basket would have been left sitting in unfinished limbo indefinitely if not for the encouragement and motivation I got from all of you. Thanks a million.

And thanks for reading!

Reviews make me happy. Please let me know what you think by leaving me one (or 20.)

JEN

Twitter: JenEsmeFF


	24. Epilogue, Esme: The View

**The Fantasy Basket**

**By JenEsme**

**Inspired by Stephenie Meyers' Twilight series. No infringement intended.**

**Chapter 21—Esme: Epilogue**

**Posted January 23, 2013**

Esme, 2036

23 years later…

The second pew is a good seat from which to witness some of life's biggest moments and a lot of the small ones, too. Carlisle and I have sat in the second pew at Trinity almost every Sunday for the past 60 years, sitting behind his mother as his father addressed the congregation, watching them grow older and eventually pass, attending their funerals; sharing the row with our own boys as they grew, sometimes watching them from it on those special days when they took to the dais before us: baptisms, Christmas programs, weddings… funerals.

Today we found ourselves in the second pew once again. It was a different church—a fact for which the bride had apologized profusely, the break from Cullen family tradition the cause of her first big fight with the groom. But the location was of little consequence to me. In fact, it was nice to leave the gloomy drizzle—the world of lush, overgrown greens and browns for the sun-baked tans and brilliant blues of the beautiful San Diego coastline, which this church overlooked. No, the location for this wedding didn't matter at all, as much as the bride and her mother must have fretted over the decision. What mattered was my view from the second pew: the look in my grandson's eyes as he watched his bride walk toward him down the aisle, the expansion of his chest—that one last deep breath for courage he took before pledging his life to her, the flash of panic that crossed his face, unable to remember left from right when she held out both, the trembling of his hands as he found the correct finger and slid the ring into place, the place it would rest for all of their days together.

_I, Riley Biers Cullen, take you, Brielle, to be my wife…_

As he spoke the words, I heard them whispered into my ear as well, Carlisle repeating, renewing, reaffirming them to me as he had on every anniversary, at every wedding, after every big fight since that year that we truly did start over.

…_to have and to hold from this day forward…_

From the second pew I watched Edward place his arm around his wife, whose bobbing shoulders betrayed the sobs she tried to conceal. Tears of happiness, I'm sure, for Riley and Bree. I'd guess that a few of them, though, were tears of sorrow for the son who will never see a wedding day of his own, her third child who was stolen from all of us by a drunk driver. The one who was eager to follow his father and his grandfather into medicine, but never made it to high school graduation. A candle stood in his place now, the place of honor next to his brother, directly across from where their sister stood serenely holding the bride's bouquet and her own.

…_for better or for worse, for richer, for poorer…_

Bella and Edward—they'd faced the worst. Thank god they were strong. They had each other. They made it through. There was a time when Bella hadn't been so sure, a time when they almost drifted apart. I'll never forget finding her crying over a birthday cake at two in the morning. But they made it. They came through stronger than ever and have never let go.

…_in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish…_

Bree commented about them yesterday at our girls' spa day.

"You and Dr. Cullen are a lot to live up to," she admitted. "I hope that Riley and I are still as in love as you are after, what, 30 years?"

"28," Bella corrected. "Well, I learned from the master," she said, hooking her arm through mine with a grateful smile. We shared some advice with my soon-to-be granddaughter, so young and full of an optimism twinged with fear about what lay ahead. Not too much, though. And nothing about the Fantasy Basket. Riley and Bree's time will come. Life will get busy, and hard, and distracted, and consumed by children and work. That will be the time for it. I may not be around when it happens, but Bella will be watching, listening, waiting.

It was surreal to hear Bella espousing the very things I'd shared with her all those years ago and propitious to learn additional bits of wisdom she'd discovered herself and now shared with her own daughter-in-law.

"I remind Edward every so often," she advised, "and sometimes I have to remind myself that 'Swans mate for life.' Swan was my maiden name, you know." Bree nodded. "And every time I say that, his response is, 'so do Cullens.'" Bella smiled. "Cullens mate for life." She looked at me. "No exceptions." She insisted, looking at Bree.

I smiled and took a sip of my drink. "That is so much more eloquent than, 'No Dumping.'" We both chuckled a little, Bree looking on, lost. Bella just shook her head and replied, "No, Mom, they're exactly the same."

…_from this day forward for as long as we both shall live…_

I squeezed my husband's knee and felt him place a kiss on my temple as he murmured the last of the groom's oath into my ear. I looked up into his eyes, holding his gaze as the bride made her vow. Those eyes, still so blue, were surrounded now by lines, capped by brows that had turned completely grey along with his hair at some point. When could that have happened? I was too choked up to whisper the words myself. But he knew as I looked into his eyes.

_As long as we both shall live…_

_No dumping…_

_Cullens mate for life…_

The eyes said more than the words ever could. You just have to remember to look. And that's the best view of all from the second pew.

**A/N**

With that, my friends, I mark The Fantasy Basket "complete." I hope you've enjoyed this tale of what can happen _after the happily ever after_. Ezzy and Preacher Boy, Bella and Clarkie, little Riley and Eddie-Bear and all of their friends have been in my thoughts for two years now, culminating in 20 chapters; 2 complete, independent stories spanning 43 years and woven together into one; 150,000 words that I've thought, written, typed, edited, re-edited, re-edited (ad infinitum), then posted on Fan Fiction for you.

I certainly didn't take this journey alone. Thanks to all of you for reading, recommending, tweeting, nominating, favoriting, following, and enjoying The Fantasy Basket. To everyone who took the time to recommend or discuss this tale around the fandom & on social media sites, thanks so much for spreading the word.

Loyal reviewers: 104 people have taken a moment to share your reactions to The Fantasy Basket at least once. 37 of you have reviewed 4 or more chapters, and 10 readers (Beans87, BelieveItOrNot, Besotted, CindyWindy, cusic1981, EsmeAliceRose, ikaren, Just4Me, Maplestyle, & teacher1209) have reviewed every chapter (or close to it), providing the bulk of its 469 reviews. I've read each and every comment many times over and have been touched by the personal stories you've shared. Thank you. Hearing your reactions to my thoughts and words has been the best part of this process. Your reviews have encouraged me more than you'll ever know.

A few other thanks:

Nayarit, for the lovely banners.

GreyMatters, for being the first to encourage me to post.

BelieveItOrNot, for stepping in to guest beta Ch. 19 and for "getting" my little zingers, every chapter.

MagTwi78, for the vote of confidence. Your Lemonade Stand nom came at a time when I was ready to quit.

Finally, Besotted… my beta, my friend, my voice of reason. You've made this story all that it can be. Thank you for pushing when I was uncertain, pulling when I was stuck, holding my hand when I was frustrated, guiding me through my techno-phobic lack of know-how, catching my errors, and for always, always giving your honest opinion, even when you hated Edward, thought Bella was being stupid, disagreed with Esme, or thought Carlisle was taking things too far. Thanks for answering my plea on ADF and for being a friend ever since. Thank you… for everything.

I'll miss The Fantasy Basket, but am excited to be working on two new stories. They're not ready to post. It might be quite awhile—I need to focus on my job search—so please put me on alert to be notified when they're ready.

**The Journals** (working title)—In cleaning out a house, sorting through a lifetime of memories and possessions, she happens upon the journals, his and her stories of how it all began. A 50th anniversary, a graduation trip, a cruise that set them on a new course. AH 20-something Bella & Edward. A little angst, but mostly fluffy, romantic fun.

**The CubMaster**—What do you do when your whole world falls apart? You Do Your Best. That's our motto. The CubMaster is a story of hard times, good friends, and second chances; of two families brought together by their kids' Cub Scout pack and held together by friendship when life gets tough. AH 40-ish Carlisle & Esme with a little teenage romance between their kids, Bella & Edward.

Thanks for reading!

I'll beg you one last time: Please leave a review and let me know what you think. Can you help get The Fantasy Basket to 500 reviews? Pretty please?!

JEN

Twitter: JenEsmeFF


	25. A Gift For You and Your Valentine

**The Fantasy Basket**

**By JenEsme**

**Inspired by Stephenie Meyers' Twilight series. No infringement intended.**

**A VALENTINE'S GIFT FOR YOU**

**Posted February 13, 2013**

The Fantasy Basket Gift Cards & Ideas

I really love the fact that some of my readers want to introduce Fantasy Baskets into their own relationships. How fun!

The following is a list of the fantasies used in the gift baskets that Esme & Bella shared with their husbands in The Fantasy Basket. Some of them were written into the story, some of them were alluded to, and some of them didn't get any mention at all. Feel free to use these fantasies for your very own Fantasy Basket. (You may need to modify the words or activities to fit your own relationship.) However, if you are a writer, please don't use my words and ideas in another story without permission.

I do hope you'll leave a review to let me know what you think. ; )

May Esme's Fantasy Basket bring you much pleasure. Enjoy!

JEN

PS: Have you checked out the contest entries for the Ho Hey Contest? It's fun to see how the song, "Ho Hey" by the Lumineers inspired so many different tales. The lyrics made me think of Charlie, so I entered a story called Bleeding Out. Please have a look and vote for your favorite.

(slash) u (slash) 4392156 (slash) Ho-Hey-Contest

**FANTASY BASKET FANTASIES:**

12/25

Dear _,

Merry Christmas! I know you've been a busy and stressed out Santa lately, so I've arranged for Mrs. Claus to join you tonight to help relieve some of your tension. She'll have a gift that you'll enjoy all year long, starting tonight. Meet upstairs at 10:00 pm. I know it will be hard to wait until then. In the meantime, you can wear these Sexy Santa pants today and every time you feel the tight, silky, softness rubbing up against you, you can think about how good it will feel to kiss Mrs. Claus tonight, to taste her milk and cookies, and to unload your big Christmas package. Merry Christmas! ; )

12/25, 10 pm

Merry Christmas! Did you ever get underwear for Christmas as a kid? Back then, it was pretty boring, but now I hope you'll find it to be the most exciting gift ever. This is your Tuesday underwear and it comes with a Fantasy Basket. I know you hate -days, but the Fantasy Basket will give you something nice to think about all day every -day. Every -day morning, you can reach in and select a fantasy that will come true on -day night. Maybe -day will become your favorite day of the week!

(PS—It was hard to think of 52, though, so I want you to add some of your own to the basket. I can't wait to help you make YOUR dreams come true.)

December [give with KY His & Hers Lube]

All the good little girls & boys got new toys and games for Christmas. I got you a chemistry set. Let's experiment tonight. Little Me & You will have lots of fun playing.

New Year [give with flavored lip balm]

Happy New Year! It's tradition to kiss your lover at midnight on New Year's Eve. Tonight, I want to kiss you…Every inch of you! I've even got some special flavored kisses planned for you, mmmmmmm!

You've been a bad, bad boy. [Think of your own reason to punish him—this is Esme & Carlisle's] It took a lot of courage for me to go into a porn shop, talk to the creepy guy there, and get you some fun new toys for your birthday. But you haven't even used them yet—not once! Tonight that's going to change. You will be punished and taught to appreciate what I do for you. Be in the bedroom tonight on your knees, with your hands behind your back, wearing nothing but your black underwear at 10:00 pm. No talking.

Prepare to be pampered tonight. Bubble bath, candles, and a long, slow, deep massage. I want you to tell me what you like best so I can always treat you right.

It's my birthday, so tonight I'll let you romance me. Romance me with your eyes by staring deeply into mine and letting me see into your soul. Romance me with your words by telling me what you love about me and how you couldn't live without me. Romance me with your lips by finding all the places that send my heart fluttering. Romance me with your strong hands and nimble fingers, not to tickle but to titillate and make me see fireworks. Romance me with your body by surrounding me with your warmth, your weight, your strength, as I invite you inside and surround you, with smooth softness and love so deep and strong that only XX years together could have built. Romance me into my XXnd year with the anticipation of many many more years together with you.

[Have a selection of adult toys to choose from. You'll need to customize this based on your selection.]

I'm feeling playful. Let's get out the toybox! Shall we play with my toy? Your toy? Our together toy? Or something new? Whatever you choose, it will be lot's of fun.

Let's make sundaes on -day. You're yummy already, but imagine licking ice cream off your abs, chocolate off my chest, caramel off all sorts of carnal places, whipped cream wherever you want. I can't wait to taste your banana and put it in my split. You've already had my cherry, [again—this is Esme's] but maybe I'll bring some maraschinos for a delicious, juicy bite.

[This one was REALLY popular in the story!]

Let's go stargazing in the backyard. It's exciting to be naked outside with you. The grass makes a wide, comfortable bed as we roll and tumble around each other. The cool breeze chills my skin and hardens my nipples, inviting you to warm them with your caresses and hot breath. I get lost looking into the vast sky and thousands of stars above our heads as you make me see stars of my own. And I love to purr, grunt, and growl into the wide open space of the great outdoors, our sounds melding with the animal sounds all around us without walls or rooms of sleeping children next door to stifle us.

You have been enrolled in Human Relations 101 at the School of Love with Professor E. Cullen. [Use your own name] Classes commence tonight at 10:00 pm in Room MBR of the Ballard Residence Hall. Syllabus will be available at the first class. Enrollment is limited, so please be sure to attend every -day.

[Requires props—blindfold and silk scarf, feather, ice, etc.]

Tonight, be prepared to explore the sense of touch. I will make you FEEL things you've never felt before.

[Requires props—blindfold and different scented things. Some good, some not.]

Tonight, be prepared to explore the sense of smell. What kinds of scents excite you?

[Requires props—wear something sexy; show him something exciting (handcuffs?); look at sexy photos; make him watch something & look but not touch.]

Tonight, be prepared to explore the sense if sight. It is said that men get excited visually. Let's prove it.

[Requires props—foods that look suggestive, foods that make you look sexy eating them, research internet for foods with aphrodisiac qualities]

Tonight be prepared to explore the sense of taste. Do certain foods really act as aphrodisiacs? Let's find out.

[Put together a playlist of sexy music]

Tonight, be prepared to explore the sense of sound. Do you prefer soft music or a pounding beat? Would you rather hear me scream your name or whisper it?

[May need to cut out one line if you don't live near an In-n-out Burger! This one was also very popular in the story. The animalistic ones seem to be popular… hmm…]

Animal style is on the menu tonight, and I'm not talking about In-N-Out Burger (though there will be some in & out action.) Tonight you're the predator & I'm the prey. Pursue me, Chase me, Jump me, Restrain me, Bite me, Mark me, Mount me, Hard and fast, from behind. Make me groan and howl with desire for you.

[Wear bright red lipstick & give him stripes. OR, give him one stripe, then change to another color, and another, and another…]

Let me put my candy red lips all over your body, I can't wait to taste your candy cane and give it some red stripes.

[Requires props—edible body paints, chocolate syrup, or some regular paint that's non-toxic. Artsy Esme had them paint each other & then roll on a canvas to make a real work of art.]

Making art is fun, especially when your body is my canvas. Tonight we'll have fun painting each other…all over.

[Use a large mirror(s)]

I know you like to watch. Tonight, let's watch from some new angles in the mirror. I want you to see the look on your face that only I get to see—the one you make when you come undone. Mmmmmmm….

[This one's about delayed gratification. Bring each other to the brink & then back off a few times.]

Tantra tonight. It's all about control & restraining yourself & building up tension until you're so tight that the resulting climax is more intense & longer lasting than ever. We'll start with our faces as close as possible without touching, looking into each other's eyes & thinking about what we'll be doing later. If you think about it during the day, it may be even better yet!

[Find a XXX movie to watch. There really are pornos of the Twilight movies, like Esme & Carlisle watched.]

Movie night! Let's watch something XXX rated. Maybe we'll learn something new to try, maybe we'll get grossed out, or maybe we'll laugh at the cheesiness & bad "acting". Either way, we'll get so turned on that we won't see the end.

[Dress like a slutty groupie. Bring a pen (or eyeliner pencil) for him to autograph you]

You're a famous star (you choose—rock star or movie star) and I'm your biggest fan. We've never met, but I just convinced your bodyguard to let me into your hotel room so you can have your way with me. I know it will be just this once and you probably don't even know my name, but you're my idol so I'll let you do ANYTHING just to spend the night with you.

[Plan some things you want in advance. Esme didn't and was laughing so hard she couldn't think of anything!]

I am your goddess and you are my pleasure slave. You exist to meet my every need and desire, and give yourself to me willingly. I don't care that serving me gives you intense pleasure as well, but it does… Serve me tonight, my slave, and see how good it makes both of us feel.

[Same as above but with roles reversed]

I am your slave and you are my master. I will do anything to ensure your complete satisfaction. It gives me pleasure to serve you and submit to you.

[Ummm… I think you know where you can find some material for this one!]

Tonight I will read you a bedtime story…a lemony good bedtime story. Then we can pretend we are the characters & act it out ourselves.

[Can be done while parked in the garage if you can't leave the kids. You'd lose the danger element, though. You may need to modify the words. This was about Carlisle's Porsche.]

Your little car is so sexy I can't believe we've never christened it. Let's go park somewhere, make out like teenagers, & steam up the windows so no one can see what we do next. As you drive it today, think about what we'll be doing in it tonight.

Doctor, I'm not feeling well at all. I've got an itch that I can't scratch, my heart is beating so fast, I'm short of breath, and I feel like I'm going to faint. I will probably need a full examination and maybe even an injection. Can you help me, Please?

[In the earlier fantasy, she was the professor & he was the student. Here, the roles are reversed.]

Professor Cullen, [His Name] I'm having trouble with the assignment for this chapter. Could I come to your office hours for some tutoring? I wanted to take your class because you're the hottest teacher at this school, but I'm finding the subject matter to be really _hard_! Can you help me? I'll do _anything_ to get an A in your class, Professor.

I love to watch you make yourself feel good. Your hands, your face, your body, your cock. It's so sexy to see you come. Let me watch you tonight. I'll let you watch me, too.

[Bella & Edward loved this one on their cruise]

Let's go commando today. I'll wear a skirt and you can think all day about how easy it would be to just…

[Buy a book with really nice photos, like Bella did for Edward on their anniversary, or look for an internet site with illustrations]

The kama sutra has lots of interesting positions, to experience pleasure in so many ways. Which one(s) will you choose to try tonight?

Here are some other ideas that I didn't fully develop for The Fantasy Basket. What ideas can you add to the list?

Coyboy/Cowgirl

Spy/trench coat/wig

Office

Public place

Superhero

Cop/Fireman/other Emergency situation

Maid

Spontaneous surprise (e.g., Attack him with kisses unexpectedly in the middle of the day, Start caressing him while he's on the phone, etc.)

Play a game (strip poker, etc.)

Stranger in a bar

Flowers

Wake up call

Phone Sex

Pirate

Happy Valentine's Day !

Thanks to everyone who has been talking about The Fantasy Basket around the fandom and on FaceBook. There have been lots of new readers and reviewers since I published the epilogue, including some new members of the 100% review club: dolphin62598, Pyejammies, TheFlutteryButterfly and some others who may be on their way… Thank you all so much. I love hearing everyone's reactions to The Fantasy Basket.

Any reactions to the fantasies themselves? Please leave a review and let me know. Can you help me reach 600?

Thanks!

JEN


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